The Fandom
by BFTLandMWandSEK
Summary: So let me get this straight: there is some universe out there where Hetalia is real. Said universe is in trouble and the heroes who have to save it are a rabid fangirl and an homophobia jerk. Yeah, we're screwed. -A satire look on the Hetalia fandom-
1. Once More To Hetalia

**MW: **I'm back! With fanfiction! I'm sorry that I'm really late on getting this up, but like I said in the FB update, I missed the deadline and real life hit. Nonetheless, it is here now and I hope you can all enjoy.

So onto the important stuff. This is the last installment of the Fanseries. That being said,** you have to have read **_**The Fangirl **_**and **_**The Fanboy **_**in order to understand this. **I apologize for the inconvenience. Additionally, I broke my own rule of fanfiction and have more than two point of views in this. I think it's pretty obvious which is which, but here's a guide nonetheless.

The Fangirl = Sherry's POV

The Fanboy = Larry's POV

The Fandom = Third Person

I hope you all enjoy this story and please leave your thoughts. I love hearing from you guys.

**Story Summary: **So let me get this straight—Himaruya Hidekaz is still alive and Hetalia is in danger once again and the only people who can stop it are a rabid fangirl who hates Seychelles and a homophobic Hetalia hater. Yeah, we're screwed. –Satirizing the Hetalia fandom—

**Chapter Summary: **Our heroes wake up to find themselves back in their old bodies.

**Warnings: **Strong language, homophobia, sexual references

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia. The opinions of the characters within do not directly reflect that of the author.

* * *

**~Chapter 1~**

**Once More to Hetalia**

"_The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself __falling down a very deep well."_

_-_**Lewis Carroll, British Author, Poet, and Mathematician**

* * *

**The Fangirl: Saturday**

The instant my dream shocked me awake, I sat up and grabbed the waste basket by my bed. Even though it was a warm summer morning, I was shivering in cold sweat. Admittedly, that dreaming that I was falling off the clock tower again wasn't the worse nightmare I've had, but it was a lesion nonetheless. It was still a puppet show of everything that I didn't want to happen again, everything that had happened to me in the past, everything that was grafted onto my flesh like a parasite.

Six years sure is a long time to hold onto something.

I held as much of my orange poof of hair in my hand as I could as I leaned over into the basket, prepared to see last night's dinner once again. I learned a long time ago that if I didn't wake up to my mom begging to know why I was screaming, I was going to lose my stomach instead. It wasn't all that bad, though. It was better than losing my head.

I sighed, placing my forehead on the far edge of the basket. I had to stop thinking like that. If I wasn't so damn pessimistic about everything little thing then I would have been over this long ago, but no. I had to have this irrational fear of strange Japanese men possessing Estonians and sexually harassing my friends all while stabbing me in the shoulder and pushing me off of high places. It didn't make any sense at all- I didn't even stab the asshole and yet I sometimes dreamed that I saw Himaruya lying in a pool of his own blood. And it was so real too . . .

When it didn't seem like I was going to be sick, I carefully slid out of my bed. It was five in the morning and the only sound the house should be hearing is my brother Larry's alarm clock. Right on cue, the obnoxious buzzing echoed from down the hall. Five seconds later, I heard it click off. I stood in my room, listening to the shuffle of clothes as he changed into gym shorts and sneakers. Then, at last, his feet patted the stairs as he hurried to start his morning jog.

That was nothing strange thing- Larry and his obsession with working out. Well, it wasn't working out, per say, but he was really big on being fit and agile. It started three years ago when he got his second girlfriend (we don't mention the first and we _especially _don't mention that his twin brother, Jerry, once had a major crush on him). The guy could scale walls and throw knives. If that wasn't a sign of something being wrong mentally, I didn't know what was.

Once I lost interest in Larry's well-being, I finally took my bottle of apple juice off my desk. My hands were clammy as I unscrewed it. I took a long swing. The sweet juice filled my mouth and informed me that, yes, I am awake. This is not a dream.

I frowned, wiping my mouth with my arm. Why did I always have to do this? I placed the bottle back on my desk. Shouldn't I have learned better already? I went onto my knees by the bed, feeling the bottom of the bed frame until my hand touched a white envelope. I had taped it there years ago.

I tore it off.

Sitting cross legged on the ground, I ripped the paper open, letting a key fall harmlessly onto my lap. I wasn't sure why I always did this. I knew it was dangerous, yet I always had to check and see if Himaruya's glasses were still in their drawer in my desk. And sure enough, a turn of the key revealed them to be sitting harmlessly on the light wood. I picked it up and scrutinized the perfectly clear lenses, seeing the reflection of my blue eyes.

Six years ago, I woke up to find myself in Gakuen Hetalia in my most-hated character's body: Seychelles. I didn't really want to be there, but I could not leave unless I was able to get either France or England to fall in love with me (ironic, considering that 'FrUk' is my OTP) within a five day period. My one partner in my quest was Sadiq. He was contracted by a man named Himaruya to help me and, if I can fulfill my task, he would be able to keep his soul.

Look, it's a really long story, one I've been trying to get over. Things got really complicated towards the end and even I'm not really sure what happened. I just know that Sadiq _stabbed _Himaruya until he was dead. Before I left, Sadiq slipped me the only thing of Himaruya's that remained- his glasses. I've tried multiple times to destroy this Goddamn thing, but . . .

I threw it at my wall, watching it land harmlessly on my bed without a single crack.

. . . it's indestructible

Suddenly, I felt my stomach jump. I lunged for the waste basket, barely sticking it beneath my chin before throwing up the apple juice. I squeezed my eyes shut and coughed violently. My mouth tasted like acid. I wanted to cry.

Sadiq once said that you couldn't taste anything in dreams.

Sometimes, I wished that I was still dreaming.

When I was sure that I wasn't going to barf all over myself, I took the waste basket to the bathroom to wash it out. The mirror on the wall painted me to look like the results of Miley Cyrus and a wrecking ball, minus the nudity and chances of being laid. Dark circles lingered under my eyes and, even though puberty had long passed me over, I still had zits and their scars gouged into my pale face. My hair looked like a rat's nest, an impossible mat of orange strands woven together. I dragged my hands down my face.

Dad was coming home today. He was finally retiring from a long and successful career as a traveling journalist. Mom was planning to leave this morning and bring the man I haven't talked to in about a year home permanently. It was odd- having him finally pinned down like I always dreamed. In a way, I wished he just stayed away. Isn't that what he does best?

But nothing was going to change. Dad's coming home and that's that. I might as well try to look nice for him, since, hey! I'm too fat to even dream of cosplaying any of the good characters, or so said that one guy on deviantart. I admit that my thighs are huge, but they're not _that _bad . . .

I took a nice, long shower, washing away the sweat and the bad taste in my mouth. The warmth was soothing, the steam the only intoxicant that can take me out of those dreams.

But that's some depressing shit. What am I: Edgar Allen Poe? Not only am I not a nineteenth century poet who banged his cousin, but I also was not a drunkard who filled little teenage heads with morbid images. I liked to live like Monty Python, always looking towards the bright side of life.

Today's bright side was when I came down the stairs in a pair of shorts and a purple tank and saw my mom already awake and drinking her first cup of coffee. Mom was the exact opposite of me- pretty and skinny with an adorable round face that made her cheeks extremely pinchable. That is, if she let me. Children aren't allowed to pinch their mother's cheeks. "Morning Sherry," she greeted, digging her spoon into her daily Jell-O pudding cup. "Sleep well?"

I shrugged, walking around the white tile counters to the coffee machine. "Fair enough. Is the other brat up yet?"

She shook her head. "No, fast asleep and thank goodness for that." Mom huffed and placed her spoon on the table. "I have enough to worry about with Larry and everything."

I pulled a mug from the cabinets. "Larry?" I didn't like the tone in her voice. It was her frustrated one, the kind she used when I was little and rambunctious. She would wag her finger in front of my face and firmly scold me for being rude. I poured myself a cup of the black wine for the sleep deprived. "What do you mean?" I asked.

Mom sighed, turning in her stool to the glass French doors. I followed her lead; leaning into the counter and watching the sun create sparkles of yellow and white in the water of our backyard pool. "Well your grandfather, Grandpa Harry, fought in the Second World War. He never dealt with it well. In some way of coping, he instilled martial law upon himself, constantly training for the next fight. Of course, when Korea hit he was the first to decline, but he always kept that air of wariness around him." She placed her hands around her mug and sighed. "I grew up with that. I know it when I see it. Your brother-with all of this running and fighting he's doing- is preparing himself for a war."

We were silent for a long moment. I stared into my coffee, letting my reflection stare right back at me. A war? Larry likes to argue a lot, but he's not the type to consciously hurt people. He does it, but his ego is too big for him to see the damage. Why would he want to fight someone? But, now that I think about it, there are times. Sometimes, when I'm too afraid to sleep, I'll stay up to paint or draw away my fears. I would hear a soft knock at the door and Larry would invite himself in, armed with a laptop. He always says that he couldn't sleep, giving me laconic replies to further questions. But that couldn't be preparations for a war, could it?

Mom took a long drink of her coffee, giving a sing-song sigh of relief. "Just ignore me, sweetie," she said. "I'm just an old woman rambling again. Don't tell your brother about this. It'll only make him defensive and then it'll get messy." She gave me a look, one that spoke of equal maturity. She's been giving that to me more and more often, ever since I left for Southern California for art school. She was treating me like the adult (twenty-one years old? Might as well marry my fictional husband now and get the loss of fun over with) I was.

And I hated it.

I nodded and tried to drown myself in coffee, but my head was too big for the cup. Damnit. Foiled again.

"Good morning." If I wasn't long used to his soft voice, I would have thought it was my imagination. Maybe it was and I was truly a psycho strapped down in some mad house. Was that why I sometimes think that my name is Melissa?

Back on the topic, climbing steadily down the stairs was Jerry. He's grown, a good few inches taller than me, but still very slight. A pair of glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, precise like the flat orange locks of hair on his head. He was still in his pajamas- a pair of plaid pants and a white volunteer shirt riddled with holes. "Good morning Jerry," Mom greeted, digging back into her morning pudding. "How are you?"

He kissed her cheek and grinned. "Good." I watched with confusion as he bounded for the pantry, retrieving a box of Bisquick. The kid was going to study culinary arts at Canada's most prestigious cooking schools on a full scholarship (if you know why Canada would want to give an American homosexual a free ride through college, text me) (wait, maybe it's for the marriage equality) and he still insisted on using boxed pancake mix. Heh, lazy. "Do you want some pancakes, Sher?' Jerry asked merrily. "I was thinking of making blue-berry."

I rolled my eyes and poured myself another cup. "You seem to be in a good mood," I said. "What's the occasion? Finally got laid?"

"Sherry!" I smiled largely at my mom, reminding her that I was _so _not ready for all of the adult responsibilities she had in mind for me.

Jerry, meanwhile, flushed; the tips of his ears were a bright pink. "T-that's not it!" He stuttered out, shyly playing with the ends of his shirt. He realized what he was doing the second he did it and, very hurriedly, busied himself with pulling his ingredients from the fridge. "It's just that, well, Dad's coming home today and he's going to hear that I'm gay-"

Mom made a 'pfft' sound, taking another drink of coffee as she waved him off. "Honey, your father and I have known that you're gay from the moment you were born. He held you in his hands and said, 'Mary, this one's going to be too beautiful for women.'"

We stared at her. "Mom, Larry and I are identical," he replied

"I'm your mother- I can tell the difference."

I shrugged. "Whatever." I looked back at Jerry, asking, "As you were saying?"

He looked up, trying to remember what exactly it was, before regarding me anxiously. "Since Dad's going to know," he said. "I figured that I should come out of the closet for Larry."

Mom and I immediately shot each other wide-eyed looks. Jerry and Larry may have looked alike, but their similarities were only superficial. While Jerry was mild and always flustered, Larry was prideful and ambitious. And an egotistical pain in the ass. A little experiment of mine years ago involving the Ouran twins and my own brothers led Larry to get this stupid idea in his head that homophobia was a _good _thing. Of course, he's become more moderate with the years, but it was still pretty bad.

"Jerry, are you sure that's a good idea?" Mom asked, trying to rid herself of the unsure tone ringing in her voice. "It's very sudden- it'll be quite the shock -and I'm sure that he'll understand better if your father's here to help."

"What do you mean?" He asked testily. "You and Sherry figured it out for yourselves! I'm sure he's had _some _whiff of it already. And besides, he's been getting better."

That was a fun day- Jerry stumbled over his words for a whole five minutes before finally spilling the metaphorical beans. Then, Mom and I cracked up laughing and told him that his confession made Darth Vader being Luke's father look like an actual plot twist.

"You're forgetting one thing," I told him. "Larry's an idiot. How he's blind to whatever he doesn't want to see."

He groaned. "But I have to tell him! Connor's coming over for dinner tomorrow night and he's gonna wanna be able to introduce himself as my boyfriend!_"_

"We'll get it sorted out before then," Mom said. She opened her arms, signaling for Jerry to come hug her, but he immediately immersed himself back to his cooking. She frowned for a moment before dropping her arms. She sighed. "But it's your closet you're coming out of, so how you do it is your choice."

He pulled a bowl from the lower cabinets, smiling softly. "Thanks."

The knob of the front door turned with a loud click and, in some strange God-play, Larry pushed it open, holding his leashed cat in his arms. Half a head taller than Jerry, he was a looming form drenched in sweat. His hair was as orange as ours, but it was shaggier than Jerry's and straight like Mom's. A pair of rectangular glasses sat on his long and large nose. The years had made his face hard, a somewhat fitting compliment to his muscular arms and legs.

Really, he wasn't all _that _muscular, but I could see the veins bulging disgustingly in his forearms and his arms and legs did look defined.

If he wasn't my brother, I might actually think he was hot.

Anyways, Larry forced a strained grin as he greeted us through pants. "It's hot already," he said, placing the cat, Sokka Jr. (because, apparently, there was a senior?), on the ground. He bent over to unclip the leash. "Sokka got tired pretty quickly, so I had to carry him for most of the way."

"You deserve it," I said, reaching for the pot of coffee again. My frown felt thick on my face. "What kind of idiot runs with his cat?"

Larry smirked. "That kind of idiot who-" He pulled an envelope from the waist of his gym shorts. "-just got tickets for his girlfriend to see _Chicago." _He pushed the door shut with his foot, gracing us with a satisfied look. "Am I an amazing boyfriend or what?"

"I think that you're an egotistical bastard with his head too far up his rear," I said bluntly. "But that's just me." I took a long sip of coffee, barely surprised when Mom and Jerry gasped in surprise.

"Sherry!" Mom placed her spoon onto the counter noisily and sent me a sharp glare. "How many times do I have to-"

Larry rolled his eyes and waved me off. "It's fine, Mom." He sauntered across the living room and into the kitchen (open floor layout, whatcha going to do about it?). He placed Sokka Jr.'s leash back in the pantry, saying, "Some of us are just immature and in denial that she's an adult already and needs to stop freaking out over everything freaking little thing." He sent me a mockful smile. "But that's just me."

Before I could crush his neck in my hands, Jerry cleared his throat. "Hey, uh, Larry?" His brother turned to him with a raised brow, taking his glasses off his large nose to wipe the sweat off. "Can we talk about something?"

Mom abruptly stood, throwing her arms up into the air. "I have to go pick up your father now," she announced hurriedly.

Our mouths hung open as she plucked her purse off the couch and ran for the front door. "Already?" Larry asked, scrunching his brows together. His visage was just as confused as ours, but he lacked our horror. Was Mom really bailing before her own son came out of the closet? "Dad's plane's not landing until noon."

"Well it's a three hour drive," she replied, swinging the door open. "Sherry's in charge, by the way, but you're all old enough not to set the house on fire, right?" We nodded hesitantly. Mom blew us a kiss and wished us one final goodbye before escaping to the comfort of Californian highways.

When the door clicked shut behind her, an unsettling silence reigned throughout the air.

Larry sighed, reaching inside of one of the cabinets for a glass. "That was weird," he muttered, taking it to the fridge for ice and water. "But you were about to say something, Jerry?"

Jerry immediately looked down, his frayed nerves showing in his eyes. He clasped his hands in front of himself, wringing his fingers incessantly. "Well, um, you see . . ." I watched as he slowly brought his arms to his side and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes. "There's something I've been keeping from you."

Larry raised a brow, taking a quick drink of water before asking, "And that is?"

"Well . . ." He took another deep breath. In and out. I couldn't help but to gulp nervously. I sent him silent, positive messages, encouraging him to spit it out already. He grinded his teeth, finally stomping his foot on the ground as he shouted, "I'm gay."

Larry immediately choked, quickly placing his glass on his counter and pounding his fist on his chest. "W-what?"

With the metaphorical cat out of the equally metaphorical bag, Jerry seemed more confident. His ears remained their bright red as he nodded fiercely. "Mom and Sherry have known for years, but I've just been afraid of telling you-"

"How long have you been gay?" Larry demanded, his eyes wide and bewildered.

"Well, um, I . . ." Jerry shrugged. He sounded just as panicked as he said, "A long time."

"And you never told me?"

"I didn't think you'll want to hear it!"

Larry slammed his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. "Know what, Jerry? Just stop it." His brother grew very still as he gave him a look of a twisted sort of confidence. "I don't know what you're thinking, but this isn't funny."

Even I felt the sting of his words. I pressed my lips, forcing myself to keep silent as Jerry looked ready to cry. "But I'm not joking!" He practically replied, defeat resonating in his voice. "I am gay! I have a boyfriend!"

Larry shook his head and started to make his way to the stairs. "Yeah and Robin Thicke is a feminist. Now I'm going to go change into not sweaty clothes for breakfast and when I come down, you're going to be sane again."

Jerry's hands were clenched into tight fists as he watched Larry climb up the stairs, his white and brown cat trailing behind him. He was shaking with fury; a shaking can of condensed power. Right as Larry touched the top step, Jerry ran to the bottom of the staircase. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "While you're up there, check my drawer. You'll find lube!"

Oh.

My.

God.

It was my turn to choke. My coffee clogged in my throat and I had bent over the counter to unplug it. Jerry rushed to my side and gently rubbed circles into my back as I coughed away the bitter liquid. "Sorry," he said softly, perhaps a little sheepish as well. "I just got desperate."

I nodded, giving him a thumb's up. I coughed a few more times before finally feeling ready to speak again. "That was just, unexpected," I said at last. I gave him a skeptical look. "So you and Connor have-"

"We're doing it safely," he assured, holding his hands up in the air. "I mean, we've only done it a few times, but when we do . . . you know."

I nodded sympathetically, standing back straight as I went for another cup of coffee. "I get it." I punched his shoulder, grinning largely. "Congrats on the sex, boy. He has the fine ass of a Spaniard-"

He looked at me, unamused. "Please don't make Hetalia references right now."

"-but now we just got to get Larry to believe it."

He let his annoyance dropped in favor of a tired sigh. "Well knowing him, he's going to change first and then curiosity is going to get the best of him-"

Right on cue, Larry's shrill (but still incredibly manly) scream ripped through the air. "What the frack?" His door slammed open and he came running down the stairs again. His gym clothes were switched for a pair of jeans too long for him and a red shirt. He had the decently to wipe his sweat away with a towel, though he still reeked of spoiled milk. His hair was wild, flying around him like a mad scientist. He skidded on the wood floors, barely catching himself at the island. "Who's the asshole?" He demanded frantically.

Jerry stared at him. "What-"

"Who's the asshole that's been- oh frack, who have you been using that stuff with?"

Jerry gave me a sideways glance before lowering his eyes to the ground. "Connor."

"The paperboy?" Larry looked up horrified. "How . . . why . . ." He ran his hands over his face, muttering a few curses. "Holy shit, this is not good."

"How is that not good?" Jerry demanded, his voice finally gaining volume. Anyone who knew the kid could tell you that it was not easy to make Jerry mad, but when it happened, you had to run to the hillsides. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He screamed. "I thought that you changed! I thought that you weren't going to throw a big hissy fit over this!"

"How can I not?" Larry demanded bitterly. "The last time-" He shook the idea out of his head. "It's not natural. Next you're going to tell me that you're like Antonio and have a crush on me!"

"And what if I told you I once did?" Larry and I both went cold as the boy finally said what we all insisted remained silent. Jerry laughed hollowly, embracing his newfound power. He slithered towards Larry, pointing a finger at him. "And what if I told you that my feelings for you is the reason why I first found out I was gay?" He jeered. Larry looked at him with wide eyes, bent lower than him as he stumbling on his feet as he backed away. "Does that make you uncomfortable? I hope so because it's hell when your own twin brother's homophobic."

Larry snatched Jerry's finger in his hand. He pulled his brother closer, his free hand pulling an unsheathed knife from his pocket.

I screamed, dropping my mug on the floor as I backed into the counter. "What the fuck are you doing?" I screamed.

He didn't listen to me. Larry flashed it before Jerry's face, holding the blade horizontal to his eyes. The gleam reflected the fear. "Shut up," Larry growled, straightening his knees and returning to full height. His face was hard as he looked down at Jerry with cold eyes. "You're disgusting."

Jerry lost whatever power he had. In an instant, he ripped his finger free and flew back up the stairs. I saw his tears staining long veins down his face. He slammed his bedroom door shut behind him, every plate and glass inside the cabinets rattling in shock.

I stayed at the counter, trapped behind an ocean of broken glass and spilt coffee, as I watched Larry with equal parts of fear and hate. He stood in his spot for a long moment, his eyes trained on the staircase. Then, realizing what he had done, they went wide and trained down at his weapon. Larry stared at it incoherently for a long moment before yelping and letting it fall to the floor. "What the hell?"

That scared look in his irises, made me hesitant at first, but I pushed it away. There was no way I was going to let that bastard of a brother get away with those words (and pulling out a knife! For God's sake, what the fuck is wrong with him?). I carefully stepped around the glass shards before stalking to my younger brother. I slapped him.

Larry yelped, bracing himself on a barstool. "What the frack was that for?" He demanded harshly, glaring through skewed glasses.

"For being an insensitive prick," I replied hotly. "I don't know about you, but that had to be the rudest, douchey-est response to a coming out speech I have ever seen."

He rolled his eyes, rubbing his cheek as he straightened his specs. "Shut-up, Sherry," he growled, his eyes never leaving me as he picked his knife off the ground. "No one wants to hear it."

"Well I'm sure that Jerry didn't want to hear you say all of that shit! Like, really? You might as well have told him to go jump into a ditch or something."

"I said shut-up!" Now he was the one getting upset, his face turning the same shade as his hair. He snapped, "I didn't mean it like that."

This time, I was the one to roll my eyes. "Yeah, right. Then why else would you have said it, again?" I slowly walked towards him, unflinching when he gave me an oddly defeated- weak -visage. "For amusement?" Step. "An ego boost?" Step. I was right in his face. "How about because you're a selfish prick who cares about no one but yourself?"

His hurt dissolved in an instant. Larry pressed his lips, yelling as he shoved me away. He pointed the knife at me, not in the threatening way, but like one would wave a fork around when talking at dinner. "You have no idea what the hell's been going on with me. You have no idea what it's like!"

I stumbled back a step, feeling a sudden ache in my shoulder, the same one I was stabbed in all those years ago. I placed a hand on the pain, grinding my teeth as I rubbed the imaginary wound tenderly. I gave him a frigid glare. "This isn't about you," I growled. "This is about Jerry. Stop making it-"

"Well it's always been about you!" He paced around the room angrily, throwing his hands up into the air, screaming at the top of his lungs as he ranted ferally. "It's always been what Sherry wants and what Jerry needs and never what Larry even thinks or what he feels or why maybe he can't sleep at night!" Without even turning to look, he threw the knife and it spun in the air mere inches from my face before embedding into the cabinet wood. I screamed and rubbed my face to make sure all of it was still there.

The moment I realized that what I was doing, I groaned loudly. "Know what? You have to been the most selfish asshole I have ever met in my whole Goddamn life!"

"And what about you?" He turned to me and jammed a finger at my chest. His eyes were lit up in a blazed frenzy. The glare they sent me was piercing, sending me back into the cabinets. "Miss-Screams-A-Lot? Miss-I-Don't-Want-To-Grow-Up? Miss-Begging-For-Pity?"

"I don't beg for pity!"

"Then what do you do, hmm?" He asked cruelly. "Tell me: what do you do?"

Another scream floated to my mouth, but I stopped it. I pressed my lips with frustration, trying so hard to be rational. Seychelles taught me this, didn't she? Try to imagine this from Larry's point of view. But no matter how I tried to slip my feet into his sneakers, I could not figure out why he was having this reaction. Maybe it was what Mom said about war- he was preparing to fight some invisible demon only he could see. Maybe he was struggling like I once did when I first woke up and realized that I was going to be Sherry Sue for the rest of my life.

Or maybe he was just a selfish dick. Either or.

I swallowed thickly, feeling myself calm considerably. My eyes narrowed, I spoke in a low, commanding voice. "Just get out."

He curled his lip. His hands were in tight balls of fists as he marched past me. I watched anxiously as he yanked his knife out of the cabinet and sheathed it back into his pocket. He had the last words.

"You're not an adult."

With that, he turned on his heels and stormed back up the stairs. He definitely couldn't go into the bedroom he shared with Jerry, but the slamming of the door told me he still found a place to brood.

I marched over to the living room, taking a pillow off of the couch and burying my face into it. I screamed, letting myself fall onto the cushions and curl into a ball. Everything should be getting better with Dad home. Larry was supposed to stop being irrational, Jerry was going to be free, Mom no longer lonely, and me at peace. But everything was fraying, shattering into pieces and falling to the floor like rain.

I screamed again, feeling the tears seep from my eyes. Sending me back was supposed to be the best decision, Sadiq. So why does it continue to be the worst?

* * *

**The Fanboy: December 25th **

"I love you so much." I squeezed my eyes tighter for a moment, not quite sure why there was a drilling in my head or warm touches on my stomach. I moaned, trying to roll over onto my side. The voice above me paused and the touches stopped. "Liechtenstein, what's wrong?" he asked quietly. "Are you okay?" The touch moved to my cheek. His soft fingers sent a seizing wave of panic through me.

I screamed, shooting upright as I opened my eyes.

I was in a small, neat apartment. The lights were dimmed, the light of the fire at the fireplace coating the small space in a gentle orange glow. It was a generally messy room, complete with a small kitchen, table, and T.V. Not a single speck was out of space on the impeccable green carpet, the main source of color for the room. My eyes scanned more, quickly locating three other doors-one that was sure to lead outside- and a closed window that was lined with pure white snow.

I blinked, taking a moment to realize that I was lounging on a couch with a skinny brunette leaning over me.

I placed a hand on my head, fighting away the swirling vertigo. "W-what the . . ." I paused. My voice was light and feminine. I've heard it once before, nearly three years ago. Ice filled my veins, making me stiff like a statue. It can't be . . .

The man place another gentle hand on my cheek. His brown eyes were large, filled with hurt and concern. "Is there something wrong, sweetie?" He asked, thin eyebrows raised. "You suddenly froze and . . ."

Delicately, I grabbed a lock of my hair. Already, it felt different, like satin compared to sandpaper. I brought it to my face, not surprised to see it chin length and blond. I closed my eyes again, taking a deep breath. Finally, it was happening again.

I, Larry Ebenezer Sue, was back in Hetalia.

The air left my lungs. Holy shit. Now? Why now of all times? Why three years? Right after I argue with my siblings? When Dad's finally going to be home? _Why now? _

"Liechtenstein?" The man peered at me curiously, swooping a bit closer to my face. "Vee, are you alright?" I blinked a few times, taking another moment to realize the situation.

I was in Liechtenstein's body again in order to fight the last battle against Himaruya, Alfred, and Rodderich. By the look of the room, I was in modern day times. I had a guy, who I must admit looked a tiny bit familiar, leaning over me, his clothes as equally ruffled as my- Liechtenstein's -cranberry sweater and unzipped jeans. He was just as out of breath as I was, though I was sure that my heart had been racing long before I entered this body.

Sadly, there was only one conclusion to be made: Liechtenstein and this punk were in the middle of sex. I scowled, old habits reemerging when I looked up. "_Liech, what happened to Gilbert?" _I asked silently, half annoyed and half disturbed. "_Isn't he the love of your life?" _I waited a long moment, hoping to hear her sweet reply circulating in my head.

Nothing.

A new wave of panic flushed over me. "_Liech? Are you there?" _I asked quickly. "_Liechtenstein?" _Still, my head was silent. Not good. Why wasn't she replying? Was our connection severed? I couldn't even feel another presence in my head. Did Himaruya do something to her?

The man placed his hand on my cheek again. "Do you want to stop, Liechtenstein?" He asked quietly. "We can watch a movie instead."

Then again, this punk seemed to be a hundred times more respectful than Gilbert. "_Good job, Liech. You scored well." _Again, she didn't reply. It looked like that, for the moment, I was on my own. I closed my eyes and nodded solemnly. "Yeah, I'm not in the mood tonight," I said.

The man immediately backed away. He sat crossed legged on the couch awkwardly, giving me a moment to sit up straight and rearrange my clothes into modesty. The poor guy looked a little sad, and he was biting his tongue to keep silent. I played with my fingers. I needed to get this guy off my back until I can find Antonio, but I didn't want to damage his relationship with Liechtenstein. He seemed like a nice enough person. I searched my head for a reasonable motive to leave the scene, something that I would give one of my characters.

Years of writing served me well and an idea immediately sprouted.

I sighed, leaning back into the plush cushions. "I'm sorry about this, sweetie," I said, trying to mimic the kind and caring nature of the girl. "Why don't you go hang out with some of your friends?"

The man sniffled, wiping his arm over his nose. "But it's Christmas."

Ouch. I must sound completely cold hearted right now. I reached over to gently rub circles into his back. "And I'm feeling just a tad sick. Don't you have a friend who'll be lonely right now?" I asked.

Immediately, he jumped to his feet, bright with an idea. "I'll go hang out with Germany!" He declared proudly. He dashed across the apartment, gathering his shoes and wallet. "Germany's always lonely, but he never says so but I know he does anyways so it's going to be really fun to just hang out with him- we can have Christmas pasta and . . ."

I propped my chin on my hand, releasing a content sigh. I liked his blabbering- my girlfriend, Sayaka, never did enough of it. She was the quiet type, getting to the point in the most laconic way possible. Sometimes, it was good to hear someone ramble unnecessarily, like Alfred.

Fear wrapped its cold arms around me.

Alfred . . . if there was one person I was going to get revenge on, it was going to be him. He was my nightmares, earning my loyalty and then playing me on puppet strings. He used to ramble like this man, saying nonsensible speeches about heroes and villains, wearing the mask of one to hide the latter.

A kiss on the cheek brought me back to reality. "Bye sweetie!" The man called, running to the door. He paused to wave merrily, only closing the door when I half-heartedly waved my fingers back at him. Even when the door in the far corner clicked shut, I was afraid to move. The moment I did, the very fact that this was all real would come crashing down in a suffocating pile.

I wasn't ready yet. I wasn't ready to go back. I still had to train. I had to strengthened my muscles, perfect my throwing. I had to ensure that Sayaka and Jerry and Mom and Sherry would be safe. I needed more time. I lowered my face, placing my hands beside me on the couch as I reminded myself to breathe.

My fingers brushed against cold glass. Raising an eyebrow, I looked down and saw that my glasses were resting safely next to me. Odd, how did they even get here? After my fight, I went upstairs and . . .

I couldn't remember. A primeval fear bore through my gut. I felt sick, ready to barf, but found my throat strangely cold. Why couldn't I remember? The only way to get into Hetalia was by making an agreement with Himaruya or one of his cronies. It was vital- there would be no way I would naturally forget.

I stuffed the glasses into my pocket and sprang to my feet. I needed to find Antonio. I needed to sort everything out and finish this as soon as possible. I was going to have to make every second count and spend as much time with Antonio as possible. I was going to have to pack some clothes. Returning here every day to change outfits was only going to hinder our mission.

Meandering around the apartment, I quickly figured out which of the other two doors led to the bathroom and the other to the bedroom. Each was as equally neat and painted with the same off-white was the main room. I found a backpack in the closet and shoved a couple of pairs of jeans, shirts, and underwear. I knelt by the bed, stuffing in as much as I could as I tried to think of the next step for my plan.

Obviously, I had to find Antonio but I had no idea where he would be. I frowned, pausing in my work. Liechtenstein had to have left some sort of record for me, a summary of everything I needed to know of the era, like a letter or map or journal- of course!

I turned to the king-sized bed, sticking my hand beneath the mattress. I felt around for a moment, feeling a small well of victory when my fingers brushed a leather book. I pulled it out, thankful that she told me her journal's hiding place all those years ago. Greedily, I flipped to the latest entry, working my way backwards to get a general idea of the situation. Unsurprisingly, she wrote as if she was writing letters to me, addressing me directly.

According to Liechtenstein, everything had been normal since my departure. She was with Gilbert until nearly two years prior when their personalities started to clash too much. Then Italy and her ended up going out and she's been happy since. Lars has been the same, though he grows more and more agitated each day knowing that Matthias was still under Himaruya's control. Antonio's been his usual self, though he's been the best at pretending what happened back then never did. He missed me.

Liechtenstein mentioned a few other people, like Turkey and Belarus, but I read the words with no meaning. Antonio missed me. They've all been waiting for centuries for me to return, depending on me to break the chains Himaruya had given them. Once they knew I was here, they would be happy, rejoiced even.

I was not sure how to feel. Part of me was anxious, knowing that the war Antonio preached was starting at last. It had been three long years of waiting. Once it was through, I can be at peace. My nightmares will stop. I wouldn't be afraid for my family every waking moment. Yet, at the same time, I wanted to scream in frustration. Jerry- I left him behind without being able to explain myself. I reacted badly to both him and Sherry. The moment he revealed his big secret to me, my head went to another place and years of resentment flushed out of me.

Not that it mattered, though. Jerry might forgive me, but Sherry will be nothing short of a bitch. She'll carry around that scar for the rest of her life, rolling up her sleeves to remind me of it whenever she could.

Frack, I needed to tell them the truth . . .

I shook my head. Not now. There were other things to worry about. Himaruya might know that I'm here and may be waiting for me outside. I had to move quickly.

I laced up a pair of boots, pulled on a brown coat, and slipped on a pair of black gloves. It looked cold out there and a white Christmas was only going to make it worse. With my bag over my shoulders, I went to the same door Italy exited through, peeking out a head first to ensure that no one was waiting for me outside. Nothing, the narrow hallway was empty.

Still, I felt as though it was too easy. Maybe the paranoia was just speaking, but there had to be something waiting for me out there, lurking in the shadows, poised for the pounce. I closed the door shut. Okay, so new exit.

A quick glance out the window revealed a snow covered overhang a few feet below me. If I played it right, I could carefully maneuver my way down onto the streets. I pushed the window open, carefully slipping a leg over the sill. It was a weird thing to say, but I've had a lot of experience climbing up and down houses. Connor the Paperboy (and, apparently, my brother's gay lover) had a little game with me. Like every house in our neighborhood, he threw the newspaper into odd places, but he made sure to make it especially difficult for me. Then, when I returned from morning runs, I would climb up trees or scaled the pale yellow walls of my house to retrieve it.

I inched myself onto the overhang, making sure that my boots didn't slip on the snow. I took a deep breath. Doing great, Larry. I looked down, trying to find the next foot hold when I paused. Right before me was a stone cobble street, filled with merry-making people bundled in coats and tacky Christmas sweaters. They were illuminated by strings of gold and red and green lights that extended from the line of buildings the apartments were on, over the street, and to a pole at the other side. Beyond that was a black mass- the ocean.

I stared at it, gazing beyond the gently falling white specks to stare at the billowing waves. Even with the snow, cloudy night, and modern buildings; I could tell where I was. When the _Romanov _was captured, me and five others rowed ourselves to a port-side town on the American coast. This was where I first lost Alfred and first met Antonio. And, three years later, I found that I've returned.

"Hey!" I looked down, a wide grin stretching across my face when I saw a familiar pair of green eyes. Waving his hands above his head, Antonio stood by the door of the apartment building, dressed in a tacky Christmas sweater, complete with matching gloves and hat, and long tan slacks. Puffs of white streamed from his mouth, making his cheeks seem more flushed than they really were. Antonio laughed merrily. "You were supposed to take the stairs, Larry!" he called up to me, his hands cupped around his mouth. "What are you doing up there?"

I could not help but temporarily forget my pains in order to chuckle at the tanned man. "I just like the view," I replied. I checked my footing again, making sure I could make it safely to the ground. "You might want to step back."

"Don't worry- I'll catch you!" He stretched out his arms and looked up at me hopefully.

I hesitated. Antonio would catch me- no doubts about that -but he might hurt us both in the process. Nonetheless, he was bright and confident and who was I to argue with that? I threw my bag down to him first, letting him swing it over his shoulder before gently slipping myself off the ledge. The free fall was over in a second, Antonio having caught me safely.

He smelled like spices and salt- the way I always remembered him to.

Antonio grinned at me, satiating himself with my embarrassed look. "That was pretty graceful for a two-story fall," he said. "You know, I'm supposed to be the cat here, not you."

I groaned, squirming my way out of his arms and onto the wet ground. "I've been practicing," I told him as I tugged at the ends of my shirt and jacket. My face burnt.

I'll make one thing plain: the last time I saw him three years ago, he was head over heels in love with me. I kissed his cat-form and ended up breaking some spell that could only be broken by a true love's first kiss. While I admit that Antonio's a good rock to have, that little stipulation made me weary. He didn't quite understand that I had a _girlfriend _and that I am perfectly happy with her.

Heck, I'm not even gay.

"How did you know that it was me up there?" I asked, accepting my bag when Antonio offered it to me. I hoped I didn't sound too awkward.

My mood went right over Antonio's head. "I can sense when people are possessed others, remember?" He folded his arms over his chest, smirking. He sort of looked like he was glaring, but it was put off by the laugh that was threatening to spill from his mouth. I gave him an odd look when he finally burst, holding his side as he laughed merrily. "I'm sorry, it's just that- oh hell, just give me a hug already!"

He wrapped his arms around me, bending down to Liechtenstein's short height. I could feel his hand on my hair, pressing my face into the nape of his neck. I felt the excitement in Antonio's skin, in the tight grip he embraced me with, but I could not move to return in. I had responsibilities to another person. Still, he refused to let go, merely keeping me close to his side. When he spoke, it was in such a small voice that I could barely hear it. "I've missed you so much, Larry. It's been . . . too long."

I awkwardly patted his back. Now he was just making it uncomfortable. "It's fine, I'm here now," I told him quietly. "I've missed you too, bro."

I could feel him sober up. Such is the power of names. Nodding, he pulled away and gave me a strained smile. "Yeah, it's been a long time. You said three years, right?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, but that's not nearly as long as you."

"I'm used to it."

I decided not to acknowledge the pitiful gleam in his eyes. He was feeling sorry for himself, for a fact that he could not dare to change. I instead looked at the street, watching the people stroll by in holiday leisure. All of their faces were painted with easy smiles, beaming at those who will become part of their precious holiday memories in years to come. A weight landed on my chest, stealing all air from me. I looked away guiltily, focusing instead on the piling snow. I fisted my white-knuckled hands. "We're really going to have to finish this war here?" I asked distantly.

I could feel his eyes trained on me, making me want to fidget in my skin. "By the looks of it. We've all been living in this town for a few months now." Antonio sighed, patting me comfortingly on the shoulder. "Our bosses ordered it, you know? It's not too bad, though. I have a cafe now." He grinned. "It's very popular," he boasted. "And I make the best coffee in the town."

Still, I refused to look at him. I felt nauseous. I could taste something warm and metallic in my mouth. My fingers wanted to check my pockets for one of the knives I usually carried around, but I knew I wouldn't find them. Those knives were the ones that I bought, the ones that I trained myself to use (which required a year of professional instruction and another two of youtube videos). Himaruya would be absolutely insane to allow me to bring them.

Then again, he never had been a particularly stable person.

Antonio drew me back from my thoughts, nudging me gently down the street. He held his hand on my upper arm, a gentle squeeze, as he said, "Let's go. I'm sure that you have a lot of questions right now."

I nodded dumbly, finally forcing myself to meet his eyes. His green irises were so comforting. Alright, Larry. No more moping, no more self-pity. Now was the time to get serious. I asked, "Yeah, like how did I even get here? I haven't had any contact with Himaruya or Bud and Erwin since last time. I didn't even sign a contract. How did they bring me back?"

"Someone sold you out," Antonio replied casually. "They made a contract that required you, thus dragging you here into the fight without consent. It's happened before."

The cogs in my brain turned, quickly processing the information. "So we have another person here who is contracted?" I asked.

Antonio nodded. "Yes, but I'm not telling you who."

The only force that kept me walking was his hand. My mouth hung open as I gaped at him, stunned. "What do you mean?" I demanded, my girly voice pitching in annoyance. "Why can't-"

"It'll go against the true creator's plan." His response was curt, even a little irritated. It made me balk for a moment. He sounded serious. His face was contorted coldly as he stared at the passing pavement beneath him. Brows furrowed, he was the very definition of a burdened man. For a moment, I considered letting the matter drop.

But then I remembered that the last time I didn't interrogate someone completely, I basically found out that they were secretly working against me and became my mortal enemy. Freaking Alfred. Sighing heavily, I pulled my arm away. "Antonio . . ." I stepped in front of him, making him pause in his steps. He looked up at me with a curious gaze. "Please listen to me," I said. "You and I are working together now. If this true creator guy is half as important as you make him out to be, then I either need to meet him or understand what the frack you guys actually have planned."

He pressed his lips. "You will with time."

I didn't believe him. There was more logic in him keeping me in ignorance until the very last second- that is, if I was lucky. I gritted my teeth. But there was no way I was going to win at this. For now, Antonio was going to have to be in control whether I liked it or not.

Then again, maybe it was better that way, or so said a sensible part of me.

The Spaniard did know more about this situation than I did, and I was not reckless. Only a fool would refuse his knowledge or guidance. I closed my eyes and sighed. If the plan's off the board, there were still other things I had to sort. "Okay, so one last question: why can't I hear Liech inside of my head anymore?"

Antonio looked uneasy for a moment before finally shrugging again. "I'm not sure," he said. "Perhaps Himaruya has her captured somewhere."

"In that case, we'll have to fight him to get her back." I scowled. I've been here for less than twenty minutes and yet Himaruya already has some sort of leverage against me. The smart thing to do would be to disregard Liechtenstein completely and leave her to the wolves, but I couldn't abandon her like that. The girl had done so much for me. There was no way I could leave her behind. "_Fantastic_. What kind of an army do we even have?"

He counted his fingers. "You, me, and Lars."

"Great." I sighed and looked angrily down at the ground. "Speaking of which, where is the guy?" I asked.

Ridiculously good timing struck again.

A large roar stretched throughout the air, shaking the ground. I lost a bit of my balance and knocked right into Antonio's chest. Screams filled the air. "What the frack was that?" I demanded, twisting around in his arms. Down the street I saw a burning building, the windows blown out with gangly orange fingers made of fire extending out of it. People rushed all around us, some running towards it and others away. I swore. "Shit- did something explode?"

Antonio nodded. "By the looks of it." He looked down at me "I have a feeling that's Lars."

The stench of smoke filled the air. Ashes mixed with the snow, creating a disgusting gray slush on the ground. I placed a hand over my mouth. "What makes you say that?"

"The police of this town are Alfred, Mathias, and Gilbert."

I ground my teeth painfully. Alfred. He had a position of power here? Not only that, but he has mind-controlled Mathias with him? I could suddenly see why that idiot of a smoker would blow the place up. Lars would do whatever was necessary to save his old friend. But Gilbert? Gilbert drank a very dangerous vial in order to help him- there was no reason for Lars to put in him in danger. Unless. . .

"Has Himaruya done anything with Gilbert yet?" I asked, pushing Antonio away effectively.

Antonio shook his head, dusting the ash off his pants. "Not that I know of."

I flashed him a determined look. "Then we have to stop Lars before he does anything stupid." I sped toward the growing heat, waving a hand at Antonio. "C'mon. The building's going to collapse soon."

Antonio didn't have to say anything for me to know that he was following after me.

* * *

**The Fangirl: December 25th **

When I first opened my eyes, I barely noticed the fair man peering down at me.

My vision drifted between blurry and clear, some areas defined by lines and others by fuzzy blobs. I groaned, lifting my hand to my forehead. What happened? The last thing I remembered was lying on the couch and crying tears of frustration. My previous anger returned. Stupid Larry, that fucking prick. I couldn't decide if he was either an idiot or a jerk or both.

Probably both.

A voice suddenly said something. I flinched, trying to blink my vision back, as a hand lightly patted my cheek. "Are you alright?" the fair man asked, apparently for a second time. "Seychelles, can you hear me?"

My world turned off.

. . . Seychelles?

Did I hear that right? Did he just call me Seychelles? Was I . . .

Everything crashed down upon me with a suffocating weight. My body went rigid and the world finally became clear. It was far too detailed for my comfort. I could see the cold, hard wood floors on my back, feel the heat of the heater, the fabric of my satin dress. Red walls created the scenery, their rich hue creating a sort of cage. I could see a rather messy living room with a plush couch, dining table, and stacks of old newspapers. I could see another blond man lingering to the side, his hand at the phone, looking at me with vivid green eyes.

Most of all, I could make out the face of the fair man: France.

All air vacuumed out of my lungs. I seized up and started to squirm away, my heart beating frantically in panic. I was really back? France stared at me with his ocean-deep eyes, his small mouth open in shock. He carefully stretched out a hand toward me, "Seychelles, dear. What's wrong? Why are you-"

I looked down at my hands. My skin was soft and dark. Noises akin to whines left me as I felt my face, realizing that I had a more slender nose and less round cheeks. I grabbed at my hair, seeing that it was also dark and straight. I flew back furiously, my back hitting the wall. I screamed.

I was . . .

Tears welled up in my eyes.

I was . . .

I placed a hand over my mouth to stop the sobs.

I was . . .

I hid my face, trying to disappear from existence.

I was . . .

France was suddenly in front of me. Squatting on his toes, he stared at me with the fullest concern any father could have. That's right- I was his daughter again. Once again, I was stuck in Seychelles's body.

The blond bit his lip before stretching his hand towards my face. He said something again, but I could not hear it, understand it. His fingers brushed against my cheek. They were gentle and caring, but they were more than enough. I screamed again, swatting his hand away. "No! Go away!" I yelled, huddling further into myself. I held my arms in front of my face, looking at him through the cracks. "Get the fuck away from me!"

France's jaw drop. "Seychelles, what are you-"

"I want Sadiq!"

He froze. The life drained out of his face, leaving behind only a ghostly complexion. Trepidation consumed his hand. The poor limb quivered like a scared animal before he finally let it drop dead at his side. France shook his head. "Oh no . . ." He rose to his feet. "Not again- Oh God, please not again . . . England!" France ran out of sight, muttering a colorful stream of swears under his breath.

I curled into a tight ball, pressing my face into my forearms. Six years of building walls of comfort and security were wrecked in a matter of seconds. I wasn't safe here. I wasn't safe anywhere. Himaruya- a dead man -was always going to find me and drag me down into the water. I choked for a moment before finally lowering my face. Pathetic wails left me. I felt like I was fifteen again: dumb, small, and weak.

I wasn't sure how long I stayed like that on the ground- a mess of a girl rolled up in a tight package -but either way, my isolation had to come to an end. A few times, I vaguely noticed France and the green-eyed man walk in and out of the room, always lingering in a small corner and whispering to each other. My consciousness faded with them and time passed by in a blink of a second.

Before I knew it, someone was grabbing my shoulders.

I opened my mouth, prepared to yell my surprise when a surprisingly calm voice spoke. "Do not scream." I froze. I almost didn't believe it when I heard it, but then warm hands gently touched the arms I hid behind. Slowly, very slowly, I lowered them and peered cautiously.

There he was- Sadiq. There he was with his tanned face and stubble chin, his gold eyes and curly brown hair. There he was in a green jacket, wearing a calm face and terrified eyes. There he was, my mentor and friend.

Sadiq gulped, doing his best to stay calm as he delicately lowered my arms. "I know that you are a little scared right now," he said, forcing himself to sound even. "But this is no time to scream."

I teared up again. Trembling, I lowered my face in shame. "Sadiq . . ." I whispered, barely loud enough for even myself to hear. "I . . ." I cracked a brand new sob and buried my face in my hands, my palms kneeing my eyes. "What am I doing here?"

"So is that Sherry?" I shot my face up. Ari stood behind Sadiq, looking down at me through the bangs of his silver hair. He wore his usual stoic, bored expression, but there was a weariness in it. Ari held his hands in front of a thick, blue sweater and pressed his lips. I fidgeted under his gaze.

Sadiq looked up at him for a long moment. "Who else could it be?" he demanded aggressively. His brows were furrowed, creating creases in his forehead. "Sherry's the only one who's been here like this."

"I think Iceland's concern holds some weight." The green-eyed man standing next to France stepped forward. Through his refined black suit and equally dark eyebrows, I made out the drawn face of England. His eyes drifted between the three of us, scrutinizing the scene. "If I remember correctly, Himaruya can and will do anything to trick us."

Ari nodded approvingly, leaving Sadiq to release a long breath. "True, but . . ." He sighed, closing his eyes as he shook his head. "Okay, you win," Sadiq said. A new sort of worry swelled in me, flooding me from gut to heart. "What should we do then?"

France stepped next to his boyfriend, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Well there has to be something that only Miss Sherry here knows," he said. "So we should ask her a question like that." The moment he finished speaking, all eyes turned to Sadiq.

"Why the hell are you all looking at me?" He demanded.

"You're the one that knows her the best."

Sadiq's mouth dropped a little further. "But-"

Ari rolled his eyes. "I swear to God, Pops- if you don't ask her something then I'm going to throw all of your masks into a pile of cow shit."

"Please don't. They're collectibles."

"Then ask her!"

Sadiq pressed his lips. Even with the teen's threat hanging in the air, he reluctantly turned back to me. He stared me in the eyes, seemingly searching for something to ask. He pressed his lip for a long moment. "Um . . . what's my favorite movie?"

The men groaned. "Sorry to break it to you, chap," England said. "But everyone knows it's the _Titanic." _

Sadiq closed his eyes and released a tense breath. "I know, but can't I pretend that no one does yet?" Ari coughed loudly, breaking his composure in order to send him piercing glare. Sadiq held his hands up. "Alright, alright- calm down, kid. I got something." He turned back to me. For a moment, he did nothing but scrutinizing my face, taking in Seychelles's brown eyes and smooth skin. Whatever seriousness he had suddenly dripped off his face. "Oh fuck," he swore, his voice sounding more like a breath. "You look so naive."

I knew what he meant. Way back then, back when I was first here, Sadiq and I were in the nurse's office, my mentor confined to a bed. Gripping a golden pocket watch with white-knuckled hands, he told me the story of his contract, ending with such a contrite statement: he knew that I wasn't Seychelles since there was a youthful, innocent, _naive _look gleaming my eyes.

I stared at him with an open mouth, at a loss for words. The drying tear-trails on my face made my cheeks itchy, but I didn't have the will to wipe them away. I wanted to tell him that I really was Sherry, that I was the girl he met six years ago, but I didn't know how. I didn't want to say it and make it concrete.

I really didn't want to know that I was back.

Ari coughed again, his impatience rising. "Pops!"

He snapped out of his trance. His memorial over, he painted a hard look on his face, peering at me skeptically. "Alright then, so you're Sherry, right?" he asked. I nodded dumbly, my back erect. I didn't want to mess this up. "Then what was the last thing I ever said to you?"

The last thing he ever said to me? That was easy. I was fading out of the void, returning at last to the real world. In a moment of panic, I stretched out a hand to him and Seychelles, hoping that they'll keep me there with them a little longer. But, just as I was no longer able to hear the sound of that world anymore, his lips moved to two last words: _Goodbye, Agatha._

I didn't know who Agatha was, even if she had my middle name. That didn't matter, though. What mattered was that I had to steal that cold, worried look from Sadiq's eyes and make him happy again. I had to- I've never really seen him truly happy before. So, with a slight raise of my chin, I swallowed and repeated his words.

The results were instantaneous.

Sadiq immediately wrapped his arms around me, holding me close to his chest like a safety blanket. Even after all of these years, he still smelled like sweet apples. I buried my face into the warm crook of his neck, taking fistfuls of his jacket into my hands. I could feel him trembled. "It's you," he whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear. "You're back."

I bit my lip, holding back a new flood of tears. I nodded thickly, saying, "Yeah, I'm back."

"So you really are Sherry." Sadiq and I looked up at Ari with curious looks. He held his chin between his fingers, frowning as he searched his brain. "If you're back, then that means Himaruya isn't dead."

It was as if we died- Sadiq and I. We both froze, more still than statues, and the color ran from our faces. Sadiq turned his face away, staring out the window with hollow eyes. The wrinkles the years had given him creased his face. Sweat dampened the back of my neck, some drops even falling down the sides of my face. A sort of emptiness rooted in my stomach and, with such space deep inside, my body could do nothing other than shake.

Himaruya was . . . alive?

"Iceland, I think you're jumping to conclusions far too quickly," France said, straining a smile that looked only like a grimace. He wore a mask of affirmative placidity, but it was cracking by the second. "There could have been another way for her to get back here. Like maybe Sherry has a super power."

I shook my head before grabbing my quivering arm and pinning it to my side. Calm down, Sherry. This might even be a dream, you know. You could have fallen asleep on the couch and just be living some fantasy my stupid head created. Jerry's going to shake me awake any moment now.

England rolled his eyes. "There's no point in arguing it," he said, all high and mighty. "That Himaruya guy's back and he took our daughter and now we need to get her back."

"Do I have to repeat myself?" France threw his hands into the air. "We still don't have any proof, my little bunny."

"Well there has to be some sign of his existence somewhere," Ari said. He looked off to the side, resembling The Thinker as he sorted through the files in his head. When I was fifteen, I always thought that he brain was like a google search engine. But by the unsettling silence that stretched throughout the room for an entire minute, it now seemed more like yahoo. At last, he snapped his fingers, looking pleased. "Pops, check your pockets."

Sadiq knitted his brows. "Why?" he asked, dropping a hand from me to shove into his pants (okay, that could have totally been worded differently). "I didn't make a contract so-" he went silent. I could feel him take his turn to shake, a new line of terror coursing through him. He didn't have to say anything for us to know what he was going to pull out.

A golden pocket watch.

I have to admit, I was feeling pretty dizzy and lightheaded. At first, I thought that I was going to be the total wimp here and faint. But just as my vision started to fuzz, England let out a shrill- girly -shriek and swooned into unconsciousness. France caught him before he hit the ground, the couple resembling the _Gone With the Wind _poster except neither weren't brunettes or Southern racists.

Well you could argue that Hetalia is racist, but that's beside the point.

Ari ran to help them, taking England's ankles in his hands and helping France carry him to the couch. I stood, ready to offer some help, when Sadiq grabbed my hand and pulled me back down. "Sadiq, what are you . . ." I trailed off, looking at his face.

The stone face I knew well was staring at me, trying to look stronger under the circumstances. But there was an equally familiar glint in his eyes, one that read of panic and fear- haunted. He stood, barely paying the other men heed as he pulled me to a mahogany door at the other side of the room. "Let's go."

I grabbed the hem of my satin green Christmas dress, trying to step over the junk scattered on the floor. And I thought Seychelles was a neat freak. "Where are we going?" I demanded.

He didn't even bother to turn back to me. "Out."

I closed my mouth. He wanted to talk in private, away from undeserving ears (even if those three helped us defeat Himaruya the first time). It's been six years and the man has been the way he's always been. It was comforting in a way- I knew how he was going to react. Sadiq dragged me through the front door and down the hall of a nice apartment building. I waited until we were inside an elevator of wood walls and tiled floor to try to speak. "What do you want to talk about?" I asked, playing with the ends of my pigtails. It was cold in there. I should have grabbed a coat on my way out.

Sadiq didn't let go of my wrist, seemingly squeezing it harder. "Are you sure you didn't sign any contract before coming here?" he asked, staring determinedly ahead. "None at all?"

I shook my head. "Of course not."

"Seen any signs of . . . _it?"_

I sighed, pulling my hand free. "Sadiq, it's been six years and I haven't seen his ugly ass-"

"Six years?" He snapped his face towards me, bewildered. "Sherry, it's only been eighteen months." I stopped breathing. A year and a half? Has it really been such little time? Could there really be such a time difference between us now? When I didn't say anything, Sadiq resigned himself to leaning against the wall. "So how old does that make you now?"

The door dinged and the slid open, revealing the foyer of a rich building, complete with salmon-colored marble on _every freaking inch_ of surface and an grand, gold chandelier. The attendant at the desk peered at us intriguingly. Wow, Seychelles sure was well off.

I drew my attention away from the room- nonetheless, the falling snow piling outside the glass doors -and shrugged. "Twenty-one."

He whistled. "Damn. I can tell." He looked down at me, forcing an easy grin. His warm hand wrapped itself back around my wrist. "You're a lot more mature."

I frowned. But I don't want to be mature . . .

The Turk lead me to the front door, pausing only to unzip his jacket and drape it around my shoulders. I held it close to me like a child to her baby blanket. The snow outside was cold. The very air made popsicles of my hair. Sadiq now held his hand on my shoulder, leading me down a bright lit street of Christmas lights. I sighed, a puff of white forming around me. "Why exactly are you taking me out here?" I asked.

Sadiq looked down at the ground. We turned down a street, revealing an impressive ocean spanning from a wooden boardwalk. After a few paces, he let his feet die, pausing in front of a clothing shop. I stopped with him, looking up at him with large eyes. C'mon Sadiq, you can tell me anything. You know that I'll try my best to help you.

You know me.

"Because. . ." Sadiq closed his mouth, closing his eyes to take a deep breath. He tried again. "Because I'm scared. I want to just get out of there, away from Iceland and England and France just to get something honest from you."

"I'm always honest with you," I said.

"We both are, but right now, I . . ." His honey-colored eyes started to shine and, for a moment, they looked like one of the gold light hanging over us from lamp post to lamp post. But then the sparkle spread down his face and a painful sound came from his throat. "I'm sorry," he said, voice barely above a breath. He cupped my cheeks in his warm hands, the edges of his black sleeves tickling my face. "I'm just so scared-"

An impossibly loud _boom! _pierced through the air and, without warning, Sadiq was pushing me to the ground, shielding me with his body.

* * *

**MW: **And that's the first chapter. I was really worried about it being too serious, but I promise that the following chapters will contain more humor, including Sherry's wild narrations. So I know that a lot of you guys were anticipating Jerry being the main character for this one, but I've been planning for these two to have the final story themselves. Hopefully it ain't too much of a disappoint.

...I'll hopefully kick my butt into making cover art for this soon.

So feel free to fave/follow/review or whatever you guys enjoy doing. I would like to thank you all for reading and I hope you share your thoughts on this.

**Notes**

"Melissa" The joke here is that in the early stages of story planning, Sherry's original name was Melissa. I changed it once Blue recommended a rhyming scheme.

**Next Chapter: **The police station is under attack and our favorite idiots go inside to save Lars.

**Happy Belated Thanksgiving Everyone! **


	2. It's Catching Fire Except No Killing

**MW: **One would think that because the narrative has two different points of view, it would be much easier to write. Wrong. There is so much that I want to tell on both Larry and Sherry's sides of things, that I now have to become more selective of which scenes to tell and when. Don't forget that I also have to stick in the comedic bits.

But enough of that. I apologize for the belated chapter. I had been aiming for a chapter in December, but finals and the holidays came up. And I may or may not have five ongoing stories right now (you should all read them). Also, my beta is out of town, so if there is any mistakes in this, please feel free to tell me. I'm terrible at going through my own work.

Like always, I would like to thank our very special group of reviewers. Give a big round of applause to **AK, Guest, Ayumi Kudou, Prulicious, TotallyRandomAuthor, Reilie, JesslaBleh, Abby-Flourite, Hammsters, ****HimekoUchia****, ****Blood-Stained BallGowns****, ****Dalasport****, ****Zhe awesome, ****Kitkat12choco12, ****XxxImNotOkayxxX****, ****FrostyTheBookLover****, ****I3AnnieHenson **(loving the name)**, ****Guest, ****I love the Sues, ****KaiShin lover, ****Gigi, ****KatStorm****, ****SadlyNotYou, **and**UltimateOtakuGirl100.**

And before I sign out for this AN, special shout out to **Kitkat12choco12**. I am so sorry that I was not able to get the chapter out on your birthday, but I still give you my best wishes. Happy birthday, dear!

**Chapter Summary: **Our heroes breech the inside of the police station to find their mother burning on the ceiling. Wait, that's _Supernatural_. Never mind.

**Warnings: **Strong language, some violence, mild yaoi.

**Disclaimer: **Oops, I still do not own Hetalia.

* * *

**~Chapter 2~**

**It's Catching Fire Except We're Not Killing People, But At Least There's Jenifer Lawrence **

"_Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken." _

― **Jane Austen****, British Author**

* * *

**The Fangirl: December 25th**

I barely had enough time to scream before the heat burst around us. I felt it seer against my skin, intense but never enough to actually leave a burn.

Shouts shook the air. Debri fell like rain onto Sadiq's solid back, enticing grunts of pain from his throat.

I cough, tasting the smoke in the air. The small rocks on the icy pavement dug into my cheeks and fought their way into my mouth. Sadiq had his hand in my hair, keeping me still in place. Delicately, like a puppet with broken strings, I moved my shaking arms into a sturdier position and pushed myself up. Sadiq, however, bore into me and my skinny arms crumpled beneath me. I tasted the ground again. I groaned, trying to peel my face away. "What the hell was that?" I asked.

Sadiq did not move. He remained poised in a half-squat, the fire from the building_ that just freaking blew up_ glowing red in his eyes and casting shadows on his face. He barely seemed to mind me, holding me in place as he gritted his teeth. "Damnit."

I pressed my lips and pushed him away, sitting up at last. I stared at the building fire. We had barely missed the explosion- a red brick building was permeating the hot fingers of fire and the black billows of smoke that accompanied it. I gaped at the damage, awed. "What the hell was that?" I breathed quietly, barely loud enough for myself to hear. A soft ring was banging around inside of my ears, making it hard to hear anything besides my heart beat."

"The police station." Sadiq lowered his face and swore. He carefully reached into his pocket, pulling out the golden pocket watch. Sadiq stared at the lovely yellow for a moment before clutching it tightly. "Fuck. Estonia is part of the police force."

I gasped, pulling his jacket closer around my shoulders. "What? What are you saying?"

Sadiq stuck it back into his pocket and jumped to his feet. "I'm going in there," he said, all business as he brushed the powdery snow off his pants. "I need you to stay out of trouble while I'm gone. Don't talk to anyone."

Look- I'm not crazy. I knew better than to jump right into a burning building where I'll probably burn to death. But there was no way in hell I could leave Sadiq alone to venture into Estonia's territory. It screamed trap while flailing arms and streaking across an international soccer field. If I didn't know better, I would say that he wanted to run into Himaruya.

So being the good person I was, I ignored the growing pain in my back and scrambled to my feet. "I'm coming with you," I said.

"No you're not." He gave me a hard look, the stern kind I was used to getting from him. He stalked up to me, grabbing the back collar of my dress, like a dog to the scruff of his pups' necks. He pulled me up to my feet, his honey-colored eyes colder than the snow at his feet. "No offense, but it's a burning building, Sherry. You're not the first person I would choose to follow me inside."

"If I come, I'll make a lot of fire jokes," I jested, batting my eyelids. "Who would be better than getting that? Poland?"

He grimaced. "No, it'll crash his style. I was thinking more in the lines of-" He turned to the crowd, sticking his free hand into his mouth. A quick whistle shot through the air. "Hey! Switzy! Wanna go inside a burning building with me?"

My mouth dropped open. "Switzerland?" I repeated in disbelief. "You would take your ex over me?"

"I would take a sleep walking Greece over you."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "You owe me for not telling me what shea butter is."

Sadiq groaned, releasing me at last. "Jesus Christ, Sherry. It's been how long and you just didn't google the damn thing?"

I didn't have a chance to reply (if I did, I would have explained how simply googling the damn thing would have taken away all of the magic); Switzerland finally kicked his butt into jogging towards us. He looked the way he always did with strictly cropped blond hair and an equally stern face. The tip of his sharp nose was a bright red. "Turkey, my sister just ran into there," Switzerland said, burying his hands into the pockets of his green coat. "You have five seconds to tell me what's wrong because I need to kill that idiot Spain."

I gave him an odd look. "Spain?"

His green eyes suddenly rested on me, noticing me at last. "Yes, Seychelles. Spain," he said. I grimaced. Oh yeah, I was going to have to start going by that now, wasn't I? "She was just following him and now I need to run in there and kick his ass for dragging her into this mess."

"What a coincidence," Sadiq said, brightening considerably as he wrapped an arm around Switzerland's shoulders. "I need to go in there myself!"

I raised my hand. "And so do I!"

Switzerland opened his mouth to reply, but my mentor immediately stepped in front of him and blocked me from view. "No she isn't."

"Am to!" I piped, trying to crane my neck around his body. "I can make a _Supernatural _joke and it would be relevant for once!"

Switzerland rolled his eyes. "I don't care who's going, just let me go fetch my sister." With that, he started at a run towards the building. Sadiq turned to me, motioning for me to stay put before following. I frowned. He treated me as though I was some sort of mutt.

I huffed and started to run after them, calling, "Hey, wait for-" I trailed off, pausing mid-stride. The orange licks of flames were intensifying by the second, stray streaks stretching out from the windows and wall cracks of the burning building. I pressed my lips and gulped. "On second thought-" I stepped back as the men jumped through the smoking doorway. "-I'll stay here and keep watch."

Now don't get pissy with me- I was not going to be rash and jump into a fiery hellfire. I mean, it wasn't like I was running away from a monster that would eat the protagonist's mother. If he was still alive, Himaruya would not attack him yet. The bastard brought me back for a reason and I doubted that anything significant would happen without me. And besides, I would probably burn myself in there and I didn't want to give Seychelles another reason to hate me.

I rubbed the back on my neck. I wondered how she was doing. I could imagine her in the Void, stalking around aimlessly until the opportunity showed itself for her to jump back into her skin and be Hooker Sherry. A wry smile stretched across my face. What was fifteen year old me thinking- Hooker Sherry? What an awful name.

"Hey, dudette!"

An immediate smile stretched across my face as I turned to face America. He was just as tall as I remembered, a goofy smile stretched onto his face as he looked down at me through the lens of his glasses. He had his hands buried in his iconic leather jacket, one that looked particularly warm. "Hey there America," I greeted happily, mimicking his visage. "What up?"

He shrugged. "Nothing much. Haven't talked to you in a long time though."

I chuckled. Okay, Sherry. Play the part, be Seychelles. You did it once (and failed terribly) and you can do it again. "Yeah, it's been quite a while." I scratched the top of my head. "How long has it been for you exactly?" I asked.

America placed a finger on his chin, thinking. "Oh man, let's see . . . it's been, like, nearly two for me, but time's kind of a screwy shit so it's gotta be six years for you, right?"

The color drained from my face. Did I hear that right? I stood a small step back, shaking my head. "What-"

"Then again, time is, like, a really weird thing, man. Like someone people say its set in place and then movies are like 'no, it's completely subjective' and Dr. Who's all time wobbly stuff and I don't even know what the hell goes on in that show anymore. Not that I even watch it anymore. I mean, it's kind of racist since there hasn't been an ethic doctor yet, which also makes it sexist because, dude, Jennifer Lawrence would make an awesome, lesbian Doctor . . ."

While he rambled aimlessly, I opened and closed my mouth like a suffocating fish, sorting out his previous and relevant words. Very slowly, the pieces were coming together in my head. America the Stupid (and, apparently, extremely liberal) was not safe. I had to run, get out of there and back to safety.

I had to find Sadiq.

I stepped back, this time with the intent to turn on my heel and run for it.

America snatched my wrist, sending a wince of pain up my am. I yelped, my instincts immediately calling for me to yank my arm free, but his grip was cold iron and I could barely twitch without causing myself pain. America drew back my attention with a humored laugh, an ugly smirk on his face. "Hold on, Sherry." He chuckled. "I'm not done yet."

I screamed, but before any of the surrounding civilians could notice, America slapped a hand over my mouth.

His hand was freezing.

He held back my voice, hushing me like a child. I tried to scratch and hit him, but none of my blows seemed to even entice the smallest of blinks. I gave up, resigning myself to come up with a new plan. Maybe if I stalled long enough, Sadiq would come outside and rescue me.

But what if he was having problems himself?

America removed his hand, only to replace it with a single finger. Every inch of his orange tinted, white skin was crawling with that disgusting smugness. I growled and tried to bite his finger clean off. He pulled his finger away, laughing as my teeth clamped down upon nothing.

"C'mon, Sherry. Don't be like that," he said. "I just want to ask you something." America leaned in until I could feel his cold breath along the ridge of my ear. I wanted to close my eyes and pretend that he wasn't here, but fear had me blindingly aware of his every movement. My chest flamed with the anxious desire to push him aside, but his voice, barely louder than a whispered, reigned me into place. "I'm looking for something: a pair of glasses. You might've heard of them. They're rectangular, good quality, pretty hard to break. They used to belong to my dad, Himaruya. Heard of them?"

My legs were weak, shaking. All of the heat radiating off of the building was lost on me as a new flush of cold rushed through my veins. I glanced around nervously, hoping that someone in the crowd would notice this asshole. But their eyes were elsewhere and whatever looks we received were quickly dismissed. I felt the panic sprout in my skin . . .

But I was not fifteen anymore.

I closed my eyes and breathed. I was older now, and with age meant wisdom. I could find a way out of this situation if I really tried, I just had to find it. "Well, Sherry?' America asked again, the impatience edging his voice. "What do you have to say to that? I know that Sadiqgave them to you. All you just have to do is tell me where they are and we'll send you home no problem."

"Really?" I opened my eyes and looked at him, up and down. I saw my opportunity.

A few summers ago, my friend, Bella, dragged me to a Woman's Rape Prevention Class at a local martial arts studio. For two days a week for seven weeks we had to stand in a hot room, with no air conditioning, with a group of six thirteen year olds. All of us were sweating in heavy canvas pants as we wrestled and hit each other while our feet stuck to the blue mat beneath us. I broke my nose while I was there. Bella underestimated her strength and my ability to block and accidentally collided her fist with my nostrils, but that is a different story. The main point was that even though I barely paid attention to the class, I learned one very important rule: when in doubt, aim for the balls.

A devious grin appeared on my face, despite all of my efforts to remain stoic. I said, "There's just one problem about that." I kicked my leg up and in between his legs.

America hollered, releasing his grip in order to clutch his groin.

I couldn't help it: I did a little victory dance, tugging my sleeves and moving my arms like a rapper. "Ha! Women's Rape Prevent class pulls through again! In your face!" America glared up at me, the danger in his eyes accentuated by his red face and messy bangs. I knew a murder sentence when I saw one and, like Sensei told me, once I hit the perpetrator, I "ran like hell."

So I turned my heels and made a mad dash for it, America's pants on the back of my neck.

Seychelles was a fast runner, as fast as I remembered her being. Even in the snow, the scenery zipped past me in a blur of lights and colors. I was able to keep a good distance between us, but I still dove into a crowd of people who were rushing towards the fire. I yanked their shoulders aside, swearing as I glanced to see if America was still behind me.

He was, but he was having a better time navigating our little detour than I was.

I swore and broke free, starting my way back to Seychelles's apartment building. I could probably run into any of the store along the way and be granted sanctuary, but I didn't know for sure if they were safe. I needed to go to a place where I knew I had allies. My feet slid on the ground as I made the final last turn. I somehow balanced myself in time and quickly sped through the glass doors.

My wet feet glided on the marble floors easily, letting me float my way across the room. The attendant at the desk gave me an odd look, scrunching his eyebrows before pretending he didn't see anything. I was starting to like this guy. I reached the elevators as the doors dinged and slid open, revealing Ari.

I smiled in relief, flinging myself unshamefully at him. "Ari!"

His eyes went wide before he stiffly caught my frantic hug. "Sherry, what's wrong?" He asked. "Why are you running-"

America burst through the door then, dusted in snow that melted from the heat of his anger.

I gulped and pointed. "He's with Himaruya."

Ari knew what to do. He hit the elevator button with his elbow and quickly dragged me through the doors before they were fully opened. Ari shoved me to the wall, putting me in aside as he jammed his finger into the right buttons. All the while, America ran towards us, huffing loudly.

Terror struck me as Ari swore loudly, cursing the entirety of his country as he pounded the 'close door' button. "C'mon, work!" He glanced up, America barely five feet away. "Fuck it!" Ari kicked it.

The doors started to slide shut.

I watched America's eyes broke from their narrow glare into wide in shock before he made one last sprint to the door. He was barely able to slip his hand through the closing crack, causing the doors to ding and slide apart again. Ari scowled and punched the hand away, causing Alfred to yelp and stumble back.

Ari banged his hand into the button again and the doors finally closed, taking us out of danger at last.

He sighed, leaning over and placing his hands on his knees, panting. "Oh God- and to think I was just about to go look for you," he said. He glanced at me as I leaned against the wall, finally feeling my erratic heart calm. "What was that about?" He wiped his silvery bangs out of his eyes. "Where's Pops?"

"America's apparently Himaruya's son and he wants the glasses back," I explained quickly. My temples were pounding. "And Sadiq . . ." I balked, a new strong of fear wrapping around me. My nerves shook my body, making my hands unsteady as I placed them on the sides of my head. "I . . . shit . . ." Sadiq- I left him behind, didn't I? I left him in the fire (literally) while there was still a high chance that Himaruya would reveal himself.

My Icelandic friend refused to break his cool composure, instead looking stoic as he placed a hand on my shoulder. "What happened?" he asked sternly. "What did you do?"

I shook my head. I had to tell my hands not to hit him. "I left him behind, Ari," I said, the pain evident in my voice. Tears threatened to breach the brim of my eyes, but I didn't want to lose my head. I already acted rashly today and look where it got me- having an emotional episode of regret, in an elevator, with the most emotionless person I knew. "We need to go back and get him, before-"

To my surprise, Ari shook his head. "Think this through, Sherry," he ordered solemnly. "Everything can be a trap and we have to consider this to be one as well. I'll say that it's pretty likely that America's still in the lobby and is waiting for his chance to face us once again."

"But we can't just leave Sadiq behind!" I shouted.

"Yes, we can." A _ding! _echoed on the walls and the doors slid open, revealing the residential hallway my mentor had escorted me down not an hour earlier. Ari took my hands in his, coaxing me to my feet. "Sadiq is a lot stronger than you think," he told me, walking backwards as he guided me back to Seychelles's apartment. "Whatever's out there- a fire or America or Himaruya -he can take care of himself. We just have to trust him until then."

I glanced back at the elevator, wanting to rush back in and bang my hand on the down bottom, but I knew that he was right. Sadiq was strong, the strongest person I knew. He could defend himself from whatever's going on. Reluctantly, I nodded. "Alright."

"Okay." Ari dropped my hands. "Let's go back to the apartment and you can explain to me and France and England exactly what happened out there."

I frowned, sadly letting him call the moves. I didn't remember Ari ever being so bossy, but back then, Ari wasn't knee deep in the mess. Back then, he didn't have to be my rock. I allowed him to lead me away, praying that Sadiq would come back alright.

* * *

**The Fanboy: December 25th**

"You know, running into a burning building is not the smartest thing to do," Antonio said, jogging at a quick rate right next to me.

I shrugged as I continued running, heading straight towards the fire. The hands of logic twisted my stomach like a rag, demanding harshly that I listened to it. I knew nothing of the physics of how police stations burned. I was going in there blind, risking third degree burns and ash-filled lungs. I was toying with death.

Still, I was eager.

Not about the whole possibly dying part, of course. But I wanted to run in there and yank Lars away before he did anything irrational, anything that he would later regret. I didn't want anyone else to screw things up beyond repair. Heaven knows I've already fracked up with Jerry and everything . . .

Antonio grabbed my shoulder and pulled me to a stop. He turned me towards him and pushed a wet white cloth into my hands. "Here." I looked between it and him with a raised brow. "Hold it over your mouth and nose," he said, a light smile gracing his face. "It'll keep out the ash. Also, take off your bag. You don't want it to get burned."

I nodded. He was forcing that smile, that much I could tell. He didn't want me to run in there. But I had to redeem myself somehow. I didn't want to feel like I was a douchebag. "Thank you." I tried to look hopeful, but the twist in my gut made me want to barf. I slipped my backpack off my shoulder and tossed it into a nearby alley way. "C'mon," I said. "The fire's only getting worse."

Again, Antonio was forced to chase after me.

The police station was made of red brick and white concrete with a small set of stairs leading up to glass doors. A few members of the crowd dared to stray a few paces close to the first step, but the majority remained a safe distance away, worriedly whispering to each other. We threaded our way through them, the heat growing more intense with each hurried step. I felt like the Gingerbread Man, except I was running to the oven, not away.

I knew that if I let myself think about it too much, I was going to find myself with cowardly feet stuck on the first step. Taking a deep breath, I cleansed my head of all sensible thoughts before kicking the glass front door into pieces. The shouts of the people behind me, begging me to stay put, barely registered in my head. They were the mere echoes that accompanied Antonio and I into the hellfire.

The heat was intense.

It was disorienting, making my head spin in extreme vertigo. Smoke filled my lungs and all I could do was placed my hands on my knees and cough. I felt awful. I thought I felt my skin blistering, but when I scratched my nails on my arms, I felt nothing out of place. My large eyes skimmed the room, slowly registering the sight. The fire seemed to be mostly on the second floor, though little strands of the orange had infected the front walls. Inside, at what appeared to be a reception desk, was mostly just smoke and ash.

Antonio placed a hand on my back. "You have to breathe, Larry," he told me, uncurling my hand, the one with the cloth in it, and pressing it to my mouth. The damp coolness quelled some of my nerves and some of the air returned to me. "If you don't breathe, you will die." He held me like that for a long second, letting me breathe in and out. None of the air in the world was enough.

For a naive second, I couldn't figure out why I couldn't move, why I was quivering in a strange sort of paralysis. But the second it dawned on me, I could feel it looming over me like a haunting ghost.

I was dead terrified.

I squeezed my eyes shut, convincing myself that the tears were from the stinging smoke. A loud voice in my head screamed that I was going to die here. Not in the police station, but here in Hetalia. Everything from THE WAR was playing like an old movie behind my eyes, reminding me of the battles I ran away from, the people I had to hurt, the people I helplessly watched be hurt and betrayed.

I hated to say it, but I wanted my knives.

In the three years of everyday life where I had to pretend that Hetalia never happened, they became my comfort. I was still afraid of them; a finger brushed over the handle still sent a seizing thrill up my arm. But Belarus had told me that my fear made me in control of them. When I feared them, I was guaranteed protection for the people I love. Whenever I felt threatened or uncertain, I always knew that they were the one evil that I could bend to my will. And I wanted that now. I wanted to be in control of my situation, but with this fire entrapping me in probably the dumbest decision of my life, I only found myself falling more and more into disorder.

Antonio rubbed a circle into my back. His hand was tense. "Larry, we have to get moving," he urged. "If we don't hurry, we're going to be baked to death."

That was right- I had this idiot with me. I had to keep myself together, at least until we're out of danger. I will drop the strong facade when we're safe and sound, but right now I will pull my strings taut and go for it.

I wiped my hand down my face, straightening as I pressed the cloth on top of my mouth. "Sorry," I said, sounding softer than what I would have liked. I didn't want to appear weak. I looked around the room, seeing the fire start its spread to the floor. I flinched, but ordered myself to be strong. "Where's Lars?"

"Hey!" Two men jumped through the doorway and flames, their feet crunching the glass beneath them into dust. One of the men was more recognizable than the other. The first one was immediately recognizable with his cropped, corn colored hair. "Liechtenstein!" Switzerland shouted, running towards me. I went rigid, holding my tongue as I tried not to swear. Out of everyone in the stupid universe, it had to be him. Knowing him, he's going to butt his head into places it didn't need to go and make things more complicated than they were already.

The floor above him, however, creaked dangerously. Antonio and I had a moment to realize what was happening before the wood rafters above Switzerland split into two. Scaffolds and long chunks of wood came crashing down in a thunderous rain. I crossed my arms over my face as the debris kicked up the ash and dust. When I was sure that it was clear, I removed my cloth, coughed, and peered at the scene.

Switzerland's companion had pulled him back at the last second. It was a quick move, but not quick enough. I saw them both on the floor, face down and on their stomachs. But the dark haired companion was slowly picking himself up while Switzerland laid unmoving, a leg caught beneath one particularly heavy looking rafter.

It wasn't until the companion ran a hand over his face and hair did I recognize the face. "Holy shit," Turkey swore, scrambling to sit upright on the ground. He coughed, pressing his black sleeve into his face. "Switzy, are you-" Turkey picked up his hand and let it go.

It fell to the ground limply.

Turkey didn't waste any time. Coughing again, this time with much more difficulty, he placed two fingers at the nape of Switzerland's throat. My own frenzied heart did not calm until the relief shown in his eyes. "Shit, Vash- can you stop dying on me?" Turkey demanded, shaking as he picked himself off the ground. "It wasn't funny the first time, so why would it be now?"

Antonio grabbed my arm and nudged me back a little. I looked up at him, expecting him to be fully concentrated on me, but his green eyes were steadily on the man. "Get Switzerland out of here, Turkey," he ordered. For once he was authoritative, his eyes set in command, as if he regarded the Turk as someone of lower status.

Despite the centuries I've been away, he responded the way I thought he would. Turkey He rolled his eyes, kicking away the wood and bending down to toss them as well. "What the hell did you think I was going to do, jackass?" He bent down, slipping his fingers beneath the rafter. "Look, you two better give me a hand with-"

A loud _boom! _interrupted him. It was short, loud, and all too familiar. I hissed, placing my hands over my ears. "A gunshot?" I shouted, trying not to wheeze in the smoke. "Who's firing a gun?"

Antonio silently nudged my arm and pointed up stairs. I understood- Lars was the only one who could be irrational enough to be involved. We had to stop stalling. We had to stop him before he did anything irreversible.

With a grimace, Antonio waved goodbye to Turkey before dragging me past the reception desk, which had started to burn, and up the flight of stairs. Turkey's infuriated screams demanded us to come back and help. Contrite pains ached in my chest, but I put them aside. I'll send Turkey an apology card later. For now, it was just us and these smoke congested stairs.

It truly was lucky that countries did not die, nonetheless, get hurt easily. I'm sure that if I had been in any other body besides Liechtenstein's, I would have long ago died of smoke inhalation alone. The short strip up left me serious winded, the burning sensation spreading quickly to my lungs, but I was mostly okay.

My eyes burned. I vacantly noticed Antonio coughing and banging into the walls before we broke into the next room.

Fire was everywhere. It painted the walls in a glowing splatter, spreading like a virus to the floor. Here, all of the furniture was up in flames and only a small sphere by us was intact. Lars stood tall against the flames, a black silhouette against the light. His normally flicked-up blond hair stuck to his forehead, drenched in sweat. His worn jeans and brown jacket were singed at a few unlucky spots. His arm was held taut in front of him, a gun steady in his hands. Staring at him from the other end of the barrel was a familiar set of red eyes.

I placed an arm over my mouth as I coughed loudly, drawing attention to myself. The two men looked towards us, one with relief and the other with nonchalance. "Liech! Spain!" Gilbert cried out from his spot on the ground. A large bruise, black in the lighting, stained his pallid cheek, matching his dirtied police uniform.

I banged a fist on my chest, trying to clear my throat. "What in the world are you doing?" I finally choked out. I gave Lars a look that told him I thought he was crazy. "Why the hell is this place on fire?"

Lars face remained unchanged. His brows were a straight line over his eyes, his face drawn up in a too serious image. "It wasn't mean," he spat plainly. "I was trying to talk to that idiot there when the bomb went off."

Antonio groaned. "Then why do you have that gun?" he demanded, gesturing towards it wildly.

He did not even twitch, but a lick of annoyance lingered in his tone as he explained, "You know that I always have one on me, Spain, or have you forgotten?"

"Then why did you fire it off?"

"Because he's lying to me," he replied.

Gilbert raised his hands, shaking his head fiercely. "I swear, I have no idea what in the world Himaruya is doing right now!"

Lars snapped back towards him, falling into a knightly kneel as he grabbed the brown collar of Gilbert's shirt and jammed a gun beneath his chin. "Shut the fuck up! You have some of him in you, remember?" He shouted, gritting his teeth frustration. "It's been four centuries and you expect me to believe that Himaruya hasn't done anything yet?"

Before Gilbert could even think of nodding, Antonio leaped forward. He grabbed the gun, wrenching it free from Lars's hand. The Dutchman fell over in the process, barely missing the rim of the flames. Antonio panted, unloading the cartridge like he was programed to. "I said to wait until my word to do anything," Antonio told him, his eyes never straying from the scowling man. "Even if it takes centuries, you have to wait."

Lars flashed his teeth wolfishly, shouting, "And what about Matthias? Am I to just leave him a mindless zombie like that any longer?"

"Well I wouldn't necessarily call me mindless." I turned around, gasping at the man at the doorway. He towered over all else in the room, his blond hair sticking out at every odd so place. The perfectly large and mischievous grin that stretched across his face made my blood boil in anger. He had all of the marking of the Matthias I once knew, yet he seemed completely different.

He _felt _completely different.

"Long time, no see, huh?" he asked casually. Casual, but fully aware of the power he held. "How is everyone doing? I hope the bomb wasn't too inconvenient, but it was the only way to get us all in the positions we needed to be." We were all silent, but not from lack of words. I could feel the weight of our unspoken peace mingling in the smoke above us. We all thought that the other was going to speak.

Matthias eyes flitted between the four of us before finally resting on me. "Hey there, Larry-boy." He grinned, his words prompting a gasp of realization from Gilbert and Lars. "How are you doing? Enjoying your time here so far?"

I frowned, raising my chin a little. "What are you doing here?" I hissed threateningly as I narrowed my eyes into a sharp glare. "Did Himaruya send you to do his dirty work for him?"

He shrugged, brushing my words aside. "He would have if he wasn't dead. That's kind of why we're here, ya know? To bring him back to life." I bit my lip, feeling my face burn. Of course, Himaruya told me that he was going to be dead, didn't he? How could I have forgotten such an important detail? "But I'm here to tell you offer you something that's very important."

I hesitated. I glanced behind, looking at Antonio. He was holding a trembling Lars back, a human to a feral dog. His eyes told me that I was in control. I had to be the speaker in the group. As much as I wanted to ask him for his advice, I knew he was right. Gilbert was no longer reliable and Lars was blinded by emotion. I was the thread that held our patch work team together. I had to be the leader, just this once.

"And what would happen if I refused?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. "What would you do then?"

Matthias shrugged. "Tell you anyways."

If he was going to tell me, then it was bound to be some piece of information that would either screw with my head or help me in the end. Either way, I might get an idea how I got here in the first place. I coughed, remembering that I still had to press the cloth into my mouth. "Fine. What is it?"

His face lit up in glee. Blue eyes sparkling in the flames, he stretched out his arms in a grand gesture. "I'm here to tell you that there's a game we want to play with you," he announced. "And it's kind of a cool one too. There's other people here, people who signed contracts with us. Find them and you just might figure out your answer."

I squeezed my fist, forcing myself to frown. So they knew that I was confused and now they were going to use it against me. Frack, they knew me too well . . .

But not well enough. From the oddly content grin on Matthias's face, I knew that he had no idea how badly he slipped up.

He said that there were "people" who signed contracts.

As in more than one.

If there were other people here, then my whole situation was just taken into a whole new realm of complications. Not only did I have to figure out who these people were, but I had to determine if they were going to be working in their own self-interest or against the resurrection of Himaruya. What if it was someone whom I treasured, like Sakaya or Jerry?

I would have to think about it later, when my head was not clouded by the smoke. I asked, "What would happen if I didn't find them first?"

He laughed. "That's the best part of the game- you don't know! We might do nothing or we might do everything to them. It all really comes down if you want to take the risk."

I started to say something, but I stopped myself. Again, they knew me and my tendencies all too well. I was not going to be willing the risk of losing someone important out of silly pride, even if it was for the greater good. I fell right into their trap: I would have to take attention off of their plan in order to focus on this game.

After a few stifling moments, the blond looked down at an imaginary clock on his wrist. "And that's just about my cue to get out of here." He glanced up and gave me a congenial wave. "It was nice talking to you, Larry-boy. See you soon."

I was not going to make a move to stop him as he retreated down the stairs. I was perfectly okay with letting him leave before ushering Lars, Gilbert, and Antonio down the steps and out of this hellhole. Lars, however, did not think like me. His arms held back by the Spaniard, he sent me a spiteful glare. "What the hell are you doing?" he spat brutally. "Go after him."

I shook my head, running the fingers of my free hand through my hair. "We are in the middle of a burning building- the last thing I want to do is get into the middle of a long winded battle of soul ownerships."

"But it was Matthias-"

"I know-" I bit back the rest of my words, cursing my sudden loss of temper. The past few centuries for Lars had been spent in long wait to rescue his friend. I knew that he had to be feeling frustrated with my lack of initiative. I took a long breath, feeling myself calm. "I know, Lars," I said, tense. "But we need to take care of ourselves first, before-"

A loud boom crashed behind me. Despite the rising heat, I felt my blood run cold. I turned around, paling when I saw that the stairwell had caved in. "Oh fuck," I breathed before breaking into a sudden fit of coughing.

"That was the stairwell, wasn't it?" Gilbert asked, rising to his feet. His ever increasing anxiety spread even to me, making me feel even more jumpy. I was suddenly all too aware of the enclosing fire that encircled us. "Holy shit, how are we going to get out of here?"

We looked at Antonio. The Spaniard tried to look innocent, but the terribly hollow look in my eyes made him drop his infantine smile. Face set, he released Lars. "I have an idea," he told us evenly. "But I don't know if it'll even work." I felt the air return to my lungs, making me loosen my stiff posture. Thank goodness.

Without looking, Antonio snapped his fingers and held his hand towards Lars. "Hand me the gun cartridge," he ordered quickly. Lars finally smartened up, taking it off the ground and shoving it into his hand. Antonio shoved it back into the gun, quickly flicking a couple switches before aiming to the ceiling. He fired a few rounds, the thunder of the barrel killing my ears.

I didn't hear the creak at first. I did not even know that it was happening until Antonio grabbed Lars and Gilbert and quickly dragged them towards me. Then, where they once stood, a wood beam from above came crashing down. Antonio released Gilbert and grabbed my hand. "Hurry!"

He ran, jumping onto the beam with Lars and I following. His back stooping for speed, Antonio sped us as fast as he could down the beam, taking us towards the wall at the other end of the wood. Gilbert's feet nipped at my heels, making me nearly trip into the flames. Antonio pulled me back, pushing me in front of him. The fire started to breach the beam, threatening to block our path of escape.

The wall was suddenly upon us, along with a window.

Antonio pushed me into it, yelling, "Jump!"

I crashed through, feeling the glass shatter around me. For a moment, I felt nothing but the insanely cool air engulf me. I crashed through another window.

The cry of the window as it shattered filled my ear. I hit the floor, yelping as I bounced a foot before rolling away. Not a second later, I heard Lars grunt as he hit the floor, followed by Antonio and Gilbert. For a moment, I did nothing but lay on the ground, coughing up the remaining smoke out my lungs. I hardly believed it. I was alive. Somehow, Antonio's insane plan managed to get all four of us out alive. I chuckled, burying my face into the carpet below me. I was so happy to be alive.

Antonio laughed, drawing my attention back to reality. Reluctantly, I forced myself to sit up. The three men all sat near the edge of the broken glass, each checking to see if they were all right. Gilbert picked at his clothes, patting out the fire that dared to start on his uniform sleeve. Lars's attention was absorbed solely on a shard of glass that stuck of his palm. He tentatively tried to pull it out, but a single brush made him hiss in pain. Antonio stretched out his arms, rolling his neck with a content sigh. "That wasn't so bad," he said, cracking a large smile.

It dropped, however, when he saw me. He asked, "What about you? Are you okay?"

I shrugged, feeling a few aches in pretty much every inch of my body. "I've been better, but I'll be fine."

Although concern still lay hidden beneath the surface, he seemed to relax. The fire sent a red glow- the only light around- through the window, outlining his body in an immaculate glare. He forced himself to grin carelessly, opening his mouth to talk.

Before he could say anything, a door from the far end of the room swung open. "What is this?" A man asked aloud, his soft feet hitting the carpet quickly.

Fluorescent lights above us flickered on, revealing out crash site to be nothing more than a public library. Rows of looming books shelves slithered throughout the room, some decorated with posters, all filled to the brim with books. I looked around, in awe of the size. I never been in one so huge before

It took me a second to recognize him, but slowly, I started to remember who this man in the traditional blue robes was: Japan. I would be the first to admit that my relation with the raven-haired man was vague at most. He and I were on _the Romanov _together, but I never found the need to really talk to him. He was quiet and helpful, though his dark brown eyes hinted at being more observant than he let on.

Japan stopped a few feet from us, his face enduringly passive, very much like Sayaka's. "What happened?" he asked, his monotone voice treading the edges of worry. His eyes quickly went from me to the fire to the other men until finally resting on Antonio. "Spain-chan, what-"

Antonio rose to his feet, brushing the soot off of his pants. "Japan! What a pleasure it is to see you here!" I looked at him, confused. Why was he speaking quickly, like he was trying to hide behind his own voice?

Japan's mien barely changed. He glanced between the Spaniard and the rest of us, portraying no emotions in his brown void for eyes. At least Sayaka allowed her eyes to tell me what her face refused to show. "Spain-chan, I am the librarian," he said gently. "Of course I would be here-"

Antonio laughed again. "That is completely right! How could I have forgotten?" Antonio looked down at me and gave a little jerk of the head, a small indication for Lars and I to stand. We did so, Lars trying not to laugh in the process. What was so funny about this? Grinning like a mad man, Antonio grabbed both of our wrists, saying, "Japan, I have something to confess. I'm going to have to end our relationship here-"

My mouth dropped to the floor. "What?"

"-But it's for the best. In the meantime, Prussia here would be more than happy to fill the now empty void in your heart where I once was-"

Gilbert's shrieked, "What?"

"Until then-" Antonio winked before making a mad dash for the exit, pulling Lars and I behind him. "_Adios!"_

It took me until we were down a flight of stairs, down another row of book shelves, and back out onto the street for me to realize what any of that shenanigans meant. I glared at his broad back, feeling my anger rise. "Antonio . . ."

Said man slowed in his tracks, tensing. He turned to me, a forced smile on his face. "Larry, I can explain-"

"Did you just break up with your boyfriend?" I demanded. I was loud, louder than what I intended. The remaining crowd who observed the burning the police station, now fully collapsed into itself, gave me odd glances, but I cared less. Antonio pulled a douchebag move and he was not going to get away without a scolding. "How can you even think about doing such a thing? If you're going to break up with someone, at least make it a more personal ordeal. And what about beforehand? Were you flirting with me while still dating him? Were you cheating on Japan?"

Antonio stopped wincing, his look softening into that of sheer adoration. "Aw, so you really do care."

I punched him.

Lars burst into a new bout of laughter, whooping as Antonio stumbled away with a red cheek. "Oh man, this is hilarious," Lars said. His mirth, however, faded away, mutating back into his usual scowl. Glaring at the crowd behind me, he quickly pulled the shard out of his palm and flicked it into the snow. "Let's continue this somewhere more private."

I gave him an odd look. "Why?"

"It's the twenty-first century and people are still stuck up about straighties," he said. "And you kind of just shouted that a male was flirting with you."

I wanted to roll my eyes, but I held it back. "Yeah, I remember. But I'm a guy, so there shouldn't be a problem." I crossed my arms over my chest.

I paled, realizing my fault. I was in Liechtenstein's- a girl's -body, not my own. Nobody should know about this. Everybody thinks I'm her.

I swore beneath my breath, feeling my face burn. Well, I really fracked this one up. Liechtenstein also was not going to be happy when she found out that I filled her lungs with ash, or that I even decided to go inside a burning building in the first place. Heck, it looks like I was _trying _to wreck her body.

"The two of you can spend the night at my place," Antonio offered. "I have plenty of room."

I saw no reason to disagree. That was why I packed my bag in the first place.

Wait, my bag.

I quickly ran back to the alley way I tossed it down, happy to find it sitting safely on a fluffy pack of snow. After double checking that all of my stuff was still inside (and unhappily discovering that all my clothes were wet), I closed the blue flap and trotted back to the men.

Being the only one with no knowledge of the town's layout, I had to rely on them to lead our little jaunt down the white streets. With the fire department finally arriving on scene, it was a little difficult to navigate through the crowd, but we were eventually able to break free and continue our stroll down the line of little stores and boutiques.

Lars and Antonio talked about the town gossip the whole trip, their voices becoming a soft white noise for my mind. I drifted from thought to thought, toying with a small day dream before casting it aside. It was only after we spotted Turkey carrying an unconscious Switzerland into a fancy apartment building did I finally found a memory I did not want to let go: Sayaka.

For a year after I first returned from Hetalia, my brain was caught in a confused jumble of incoherencies. My real, normal life had resumed and I was caught with trying to figure out how any of that wonderful fantasy ever happened. It occurred to me one day that the definition of reality I had previously accepted no longer applied to the world.

I was scared.

Many times, I spontaneously called Sayaka with seemingly odd questions with seemingly obvious answers. "Sayaka, what are the chances of the existence of mermaids?" I asked one time. "What about magic? Or the Greek gods?"

I must have sounded crazy, but every time, without fail, Sayaka explained the rules of the real world. Maybe mermaids did exist, but they were afraid of humans. In some ways, I could consider science to be a form of magic. Greek mythology shared many similarities with many monotheistic religions, so they might be.

One day, I offhandedly mentioned that cats were the best animals around. I talked about our old cat Berry as if it was still alive, confusing stories about it for stories about Antonio's cat form, Sokka.

My next birthday, Sayaka pulled me into a pet store and asked me what kind of cat I wanted.

We adopted an old one, one with white fur and brown spots. The woman helping us out told us that it was going to be euthanized soon and I felt a little pity for it. I named it Sokka Junior and promptly set to work getting the grumpy thing to like me. Maybe it had a bad owner in the past since every time I remotely tried to touch it the stubborn gal hissed and clawed my hand. One year and many cuts later, Sokka Jr. grew to tolerate me and even allowed me to hold it every once in a while.

That was what Sayaka did for me, in a way. My clawing was my constant questions and her persistence is what sanded the rough edges and turned me back into a normal human being. She was fun and loving and beautiful. She really was too good for me.

"We're here." I climbed out of my thoughts, finding myself standing in front of a modestly sized building on a street corner. In the darker lighting of the night, I was barely able to tell that the walls were made of whiteboards the same color as the docks by the ocean. The room behind the long, cut-out windows was dark, but the string of red and green Christmas lights that wrapped around the sign above the door illuminated the cafe's name: _Spain's Cafe._

"You sure have a way with names," I said dryly.

I was ignored.

Antonio guided us around the corner, to a side door. "Do you mind taking off your shoes before going inside?" he asked, unlocking the door. "I hate having the vacuum." I grudgingly did so, trying not to complain when my socks met the cold pavement.

The side door did not take us inside of the cafe. Instead, it lead to a staircase which ended with another door. Antonio kicked off his shoes and took us up it, not noticing Lars and I shiver as he fumbled with the next round of locks. "Here we go," the brunet announced at last, pushing the door open. "I know it's not much but-" he took a step inside and flicked on the lights, a wave of a hand to invite us in. "-it's home."

I placed my boots outside the door and stepped onto the white carpet, charmed. Antonio's house was no larger than an apartment, but the quaintness of the white walls and simple decor drenched me in a sense of nostalgia. I first noticed how his living room, consisting of a simple couch and coffee table, ended with a cramped kitchen. There were a few windows, all closed, while the three doors I saw were all open. A quick glimpse revealed two small bedrooms and a bathroom to share.

I turned to Antonio, a large grin on my face. "I like it here," I said. "Thanks."

He clasped his hands behind his back, trying to hide the hopeful look on his face. "We could live here together, you know."

I frowned at him, feeling my delight vanish. "Can you not?" I asked, taking a seat on the couch. "You know that Sayaka and I are still together, right?"

Antonio sighed, sitting right next to me. I expected him to try to invade my personal space, but he made sure to keep a good inch between our thighs. "I know, but can't I dream of running a nice, little coffee shop with you in a quiet, suburban town?"

I sighed. "Whatever." I ignored the disappointed look that shined in his eyes, instead choosing to sluggishly drop my bag onto my lap. I felt the wet canvas threaten to soak my jeans. "Do you have a dryer?" I asked, rising to my feet. "I need to dry Liechtenstein's clothes."

"No, but you can hang them up in the closet of the guest bedroom. With luck they'll dry by morning." He crossed his arms over his chest, obviously ticked at my lack of tact. "Anything else you want to get out of the way before something else happens?"

I thought about mention how immature he was acting, but what would that say about me? Besides, I knew better ways of getting my revenge. "Yeah," I called, marching into the guest bedroom, which had nothing more than a bed and a table stand. At least the sliding doors of the closet had a mirror on it. "How did you and Japan ever become a thing? I thought that I was your one true love."

Antonio sputtered, making a variety of odd and inhuman noises as he scrambled to come up with reasonable reply. I smirked. I got him. If he wanted to still sound like the dedicated Romeo he was trying to play, then he was going to have to do a much better job at it. But whatever evil plan I had in mind was not telepathically sensed by Lars.

Finally down cleaing the wound on his palm (and by cleaning, I mean he stuck a band aide on it), he started searching the bulky, white fridge. "That's a simple one," he said as he swooping to the lowered shelves. "I figured this one out centuries ago."

So as I pulled all of my clothes on hangers, I was forced to listen to my scheme fall part as Lars explained it casually. Shortly after I had left, Antonio told Lars that the true creator was going off the map until the time for the counterattack arrived. Antonio, however, contented himself with the idea that the true creator was still somewhere in his world, so he got close to whoever could fit the job. These people include Sweden, Japan, Lithuania, Wy, and Japan again.

I supposed that it made _some _sense. Japan was the personification of Hetalia's country of origin, so it was logical to presume that there would be a connection.

With my last part of pants dripping in the closet, I reluctantly returned to the living room. Lars pulled up a wood chair from the kitchen table, sitting in it backwards as he smoked and drank a light beer. Alcohol—that was what he had looked for. I tried not to frown, but my mouth did not want to listen to me. "I don't think that's safe," I told him bluntly.

"Nothing is ever safe when you only see the risks," he replied, casually taking a long drink. When half of the bottle was gone, he unceremoniously wiped his arm across his arm. "So now that we've covered all of Sunny-Dale's secrets, what about you, Larry? What have you been hiding for the past four or so centuries?"

"Three years," Antonio corrected, his voice stuck in a low growl.

"Well shit- that isn't fair."

"But what has been going on with you?" Antonio asked, dropping his angered air. I guessed his concern for me really did defeat his stubborness. "Has everything been going on okay with your family?"

Family- not inclusive of Sayaka.

I shrugged. "I'm not sure if it's even worth mentioning," I told him, looking down at the white carpet.

"Sure it is." Antonio patted the spot next to him on the couch, beaming with joy. "This is confession time, after all."

There was no escaping it; I said too much already. Reluctantly, I accepted the spot next to him, leaning my elbows into my knees. The two men were quiet as I tried to find a good place to begin, a task made more difficult when I did not even want to mention it in the first place. "Well, I'm not sure how to put it eloquently," I started. "But my brother, sister, and I got into a bad argument before I came here.

"See here, my brother, Jerry, told me that he was in a relationship with someone and I flipped." I leaned into my stomach, running my fingers through my hair. "I just . . . my dad's barely home, you know. I always fancied myself the man of the house and always tried to act like him. I told myself a long time ago that I'll stop trying to be someone I'm not, but my old habits came back. I got really mad at Jerry for dating without telling me." I chuckled hollowly. "Like a dad gets mad at his daughter for dating the football player without his permission."

"And you would have said the same thing to your sister if she told you the exact same thing?" Lars asked, the orange tip of the cigarette dancing around his lips.

I nodded.

"Then it shouldn't be a problem. Just explain to him your reasoning and he'll forgive you."

I shook my head, holding myself in an anxious hug. "No, you don't understand. Before I got angry about all of that, I flipped out over something else that I shouldn't have and . . ." I trailed off, remembering how Jerry's little secret slipped from his mouth.

Antonio placed a hand on my arm and squeeze, attempting a gentle smile. "What happened?" he asked.

I was silent for a long moment, chewing my lip. I did not want to talk about this. I needed to back out before I really showed how much of an idiot I truly was. But a single glance at Lars and Antonio told me that they were not going to let this issue rest. I sighed and leaned back into the couch, saying, "Jerry told me he was gay and that the equivalent of being a straightie in my world. I can tolerate it, but I figured that since we're twins, we would share everything with each other. Instead, he hid it from me. I ran away before I could lash out, but then he told me about the relationship and I started getting upset again and then I accidentally mentioned you and then he was in my face and . . ."

The shame blazed on my face, making it hard to speak. I rested my head on the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. I swallowed, trying to clear my throat. "He was right in my face, saying things he shouldn't have. I got scared and, the next thing I knew, I pulled out a knife and really said something I shouldn't have."

Antonio slithered his arm around my shoulders. I held myself together, resisting the urge to shove it away. "Larry, I know you. It couldn't have been that bad."

"It was." I closed my eyes, trying to pretend that I wasn't there. "I told him that since he was gay, he was disgusting."

I expected there to be a loud return of objections, scolding me for my narrow-minded stupidity. My backlash should have been in immediate strike of lightning, with the roll of logic's thunder to follow. But silence was the only music that greeted me.

Rigid, I cracked open an eye. "Ant-"

The lightning finally struck in the form of a sharp fist. The force painfully whipped my head to the side. The heat burned in my cheek where a bruise was sure to appear. I blinked, slowly realizing that Antonio was the one who rose to his feet and stormed out of the room. "Antonio, wait-" He ignored me, choosing instead to slam the door to his room.

His home rattled.

I stared at where he once was, struck with disbelief. "What the hell? Why did he-" I yelped, a new sting of pain shooting up my arm. I yanked my hand away, caressing it to my chest. A smoldering red spot burned into the center of my hand. I gritted my teeth, glaring at Lars. "What the hell was that for?"

Lars pulled back his stretched out arm, returning his cigarette to his mouth. "You just told a couple of homosexuals that they were disgusting," he said plainly, taking another swing of beer. My frustration boiled in my veins as I waited for him to finish the bottle. He sighed contently, wiping his mouth. "Not the best of decisions."

"Were either of you listening to me? I was under pressure. I didn't mean any of that."

"Here's the thing about pressure, Larry." He stood and carried his chair back to the table. "It reveals to the world what so many demand to be hidden. It shows what kind of person someone truly is." He flipped me off and retreated into my room, closing the door shut behind him.

I jumped from the couch and ran to the kitchen sink. I held my burn under cold water like my life depended on it. I could not deny how badly I screwed that one up. I should have stayed quiet. I should have kept my mouth shut and bore my mistake in silence.

The digital clock on the stove read the time to be twelve in the morning, no longer Christmas.

I wondered if the couch was comfortable enough to sleep on.

* * *

**The Fangirl: December 25th**

Snow happened in northern California, though not often in the valleys. When I lived at home, winter meant marching to school in the rain as white powdered the tops of the circling mountains. Every now and then I would wake up and find the snow on my window sill. Frigid as it was, it felt dry to the touch, always quick to fall apart. The fluffy white blanket so many Alaskans boasted was nothing more than a layer of tissue paper that tainted to a black slush at the slightest touch.

To me, that was snow: a fable that I only saw in _A White Christmas._

Yet, in this little town, the ice was that fantasy snow I always dreamed of. It was abundant, a few inches high and so smooth to the touch. The moon illuminated it in a silver glow, but the street lights added a dash of orange gold to the mix. From my place at the window of Seychelles's apartment, it looked beautiful. I wanted to stand out there and wait for Sadiq to come back, but Mr. Stick-In-the-Mud said I had to stay here.

I didn't blame him. I knew Iceland was right about the danger of going outside by myself with America stooping around. I placed my hand on the glass, feeling the outside frost stick to my skin. Still, I_ wanted _to be out there.

"You must be cold." I glanced sideways, a little surprised when I saw France holding two mugs of hot chocolate, smiling at me gently. The bottom of his eyes crinkled, remind me how old he really was. "Would you like one?" he asked.

I could not help but to smile as I accepted a red mug. "Thanks. I really needed this," I said before taking a small sip. The warm, rich flavor filled my mouth. I closed my eyes and hummed in content. It tasted wonderful, better than the sugar-free packaged stuff at the supermarket. My eyes slammed open.

I tasted.

Before I could stop myself, I chuckled. "Miss Sherry, what's wrong?" France asked, placing his mug on a nearby coffee table. "Are you-"

I shook my head, holding my free arm over my mouth. "No, I'm fine, it's just . . ." I laughed again. I placed the mug on the floor and looked back towards France. I wore a large grin on my lips, one to counter his small frown. "It's just that I can taste it."

"Excuse me?"

"Sadiq and I have this, like, motto for reality- 'you can't taste anything in dreams.' We kind of live by it." I stopped, thinking about to all of those times I woke up in the middle of the night in cold sweat. I placed my hands on my arms, shivering as the hairs on my arms pricked. I wished I was still holding my mug. "Actually, it's just my motto. _I _live by it."

France nodded, understanding what I wanted to say. He plucked his mug off the table, motioning with it as he said, "you might want to drink up before yours gets cold." I bent to grab it, glad for the distraction. When I came up again, France was finishing off a small sip, a small smirk dancing on his lips. "So, Miss Sherry. You and Turkey are very close, yes?"

My face burned. I thrust the mug to my lips and chugged all of the hot chocolate in one go. Did he suspect? Did France use his romance seeking nostrils to detect that my fifteen year old self had artfully crafted the sloppiest crush in existence?

All of the hot chocolate was gone before I knew it and I had to rip the mug from my lips. I gasped for air.

You might want to sit back for a moment as I explained this.

Once upon a time, when I was a hormonal fifteen year old stuck in Hetalia, I met Sadiq. Sadiq, a very attractive twenty-something year old man (and that was only in appearance. I bet my fanart that this guy was hundreds of years old). While I initially hated him, I had the extreme hots for Ari. Why? Because he was right there for the picking, already offering all of his love and affections to me. What else was I supposed to do?

The answer is to actually _use my brain_ and _think things through_, but I went to public school. I knew shit.

Moving on.

So after Ari proved himself to be a complete and utter flop, I tried my best to move on. And by moving on, I mean that I started to get a crush on Sadiq. He started to seem like a decent person the exact same time he started to seem like a decent kisser. Of course, I eventually made up this excuse about him being a fatherly figure for me (what else are you supposed to do when your crush is how much older than you?), but the fact remained. It didn't help that Sadiq kissed me right before letting me go home.

But the whole crush nonsense was in the past now. It's been six years: I was twenty-one years old and the first up for an internship with Disney. There was no way that I was going to make all of those mistakes again.

"Yeah, he and I are close," I finally replied. "I mean- we're the only ones who can remember all of the cycles. We just get each other."

France raised his brow. "And that's it?"

I sighed. "And yes, that's it. Why?"

He shrugged, leaning back against the wall. "You are very worried about him- that is all." He motioned towards the couch where Ari was gently placing a wet cloth on a sleeping England's forehead. "Even our dear Iceland is not putting half as much thought into the situation as you are."

"I don't think that's true." I grinned up at him, saying, "I mean, saying that Ari's not worried about his pops is the same as saying that you're not worried about England."

At last, I got him. France looked a little sheepish, choosing to train his eyes on the ground instead of mine. "Of course I am worried about him," he said after a moment. "I don't understand why he would suddenly faint like that."

I didn't have a reason either. Learning that Himaruya was still alive could be quite a shock, but more for Sadiq and I. England and France learned nothing about him until the last possible moment. They barely had an idea of what that man was capable of doing.

"Miss Sherry, may I ask you something?"

"Only if you drop the 'Miss' thing," I said, watching as he played with the ends of his gold hair. I always liked his hair- sketching the individual locks was always a fascinating challenge for me. I wanted to do it again, for old time's sake, but I knew that Seychelles had little skill in art. She did not have my fine hand.

France strained a smile, trying to look cheerful with mournful eyes. "Well, if you insist, Sherry. I was wondering if you can tell me about my daughter." He laughed nervously, twirling his hair. "I mean, since you're in her body, can you talk to her?"

I thought about lying. I thought that if I told him that my head was always a Seychelles free zone, he would be more at ease. I could imagine him fretting around the girl's apartment as he tried to wonder why she had yet to talk to me. I mean, I would think she would stick her head into mine and pipe her little opinions about everything, but she was quiet. Now that I thought about it, I could not even feel her in my head.

Shit.

"Yea, I can," I told him, squeezing my wrist uncomfortably. "And she has. She says that she's not sure why everything's happening, but she wants you and England to be safe."

I watched with a growing conscience as he beamed, swooping down for a hug. I tried not to fidget as he squeezed me. Something was wrong with Seychelles. I did not know what, but there was no way she would ignore me so stubbornly, especially when her papa wants to talk to her so badly. Why was she so silent?

Three knocks.

Three knocks was the only warning we received before the front door was kicked open. "Make a bed!" Sadiq yelled, cantering over the fallen door. Switzerland lay conspicuously in his arms, caked in soot. His head was cradled to Sadiq's chest like a child in need of protecting. "He's injured."

Ari rose to his feet, his face strikingly blank. "Injured? What happened?"

"Burning pile of wood fell on him." Sadiq changed direction and head toward the other end of the apartment, calling, "I'll put him in Seychelles room for now. Can someone get me some water?"

France rushed to the kitchen, giving me the freedom to chase after Sadiq. My heart was pounding hard in my chest, twisting painfully. Did he run into Himaruya? America? Was Sadiq badly hurt?

I stopped at the doorway. Sadiq, very gently, laid Switzerland on Seychelles's messy bed, brushing away the Swiss's stray strands of blond hair. Sadiq had that look in his eye, the kind he never gave me, the cross between crying from self-pity and worldly despair. He knelt at the bedside, holding Switzerland's hand between his own. He pressed his lips to the blacken fingers, not minding the soot.

I wiped my hands on my dress, feeling out of place. A ball formed in the middle of my throat, making it hard for me to speak. I needed to ask him what happened inside of the building, but . . .

"Pops." Ari pushed past me, striding right towards his side. Sadiq looked up at him, adapting his worn but smooth face. "What happened?" Ari asked. "Did Himaruya attack?"

He shook his head. I felt the relief flush over me before he could even explain. "Switzy and I were in there for less than a minute before the ceiling half collapsed on him. I was barely able to dig him out before the whole building came down on me."

I started to ask him about America, but France pushed past me next, armed with a glass of water and a towel. He knock Sadiq away, fully absorbed in wiping away the soot from Switzerland's cheeks. Sadiq glared at him, as if to snap at him for being rude. "I don't think the building was meant for us," Sadiq growled, grudgingly scooting away from the bed. He sat on the floor with crossed legs, his arms folded on his chest. "I can't help but to feel as though someone didn't want Switzerland and I chasing after Liechtenstein and Spain."

"Liechtenstein and Spain?" the Icelandic repeated. "That's an odd couple."

I tried to talk again. "What—"

"Yeah, and you wouldn't believe how suspicious they were acting . . ."

I sighed, lowering my head. I wasn't needed. France was busying himself. Ari and Sadiq were consumed by this apparently new development. And I was simply standing here, trying hopelessly to get someone to listen to me. Maybe I should try to pay attention to what they were saying, but I knew I couldn't. There were chains holding me back, preventing me from extending a hand towards them.

How immature of me- I felt like I didn't belong. Our lives were on the line and not being able to speak made me feel like the odd man out of the pack. I really was pathetic.

I left them, figuring that I would entertain myself some other way.

I propped back the door against the frame, promising myself to make Sadiq fix it before he left. Was he even going to leave? I did not think that any of these men were going to leave Seychelles's apartment anytime soon. I found the spare blankets in a cupboard by a bathroom and started making beds on the living room floor. Three for France, Ari, and I. Sadiq might stay in Seychelles's room with his ex.

I finished all too soon. The clock told me that it was nearly midnight, nearly the end of Christmas. What a joy this holiday season ended up being. I started looking for other things to do. England needed no tending and the dishes from Christmas dinner were in the dishwasher. I placed the two mugs in the sink.

I pulled a chair up to the window I started at and stared at the snow again. A new set of tracks spoiled the pure white, ones that Sadiq undoubtedly caused. The scene wasn't as sweet as it used to be. Yet, I forced myself to look outside and not in.

Eventually, France rejoined me in the living room. He sat on the bed I made at the couch, holding the hand of his dear boyfriend. He pretended to focus on the Brit, but every so often, he gave me a side-ways glance. I watched his reflection play this dance for a few minutes before he finally spoke. "Such a strong reaction from someone who claims to just be understanding," he said.

I flipped him off.

An hour passed. Ari and Sadiq were still talking. France turned off the lights and crawled into bed, leaving me at my window. I thought that maybe I would do the cool 'fall asleep while waiting' trope, but the chair was too uncomfortable to even feel drowsy in. I moved to my bed, one that I made in the corner.

I lay on my side, back to the rest of the apartment, and fell asleep on my side.

When I was shaken awake, I thought that I was still asleep. Yet, I could feel a warm hand on my shoulder, gently calling me from sleep. "Sherry, are you awake?" I groaned softly, curling into a tighter ball. I was dreaming- why else would Sadiq be here?

It was silent for a long moment. Then, without warning, I felt a soft voice at my ears. "I'm sorry I left you alone against America. I should have been out there to protect you. I promise to not leave you like that again."

He kissed my cheek.

I shifted a little, too afraid to open my eyes. I waited for him to say something else, but the world was still. After what felt like a long time, I cracked an eye open. The room was dark. Everyone was asleep.

It must have been my imagination, the remains of a deceased dream. I rolled back into my ball, falling asleep quickly. For once, I knew that there would be no nightmares.

Those nightmares were reality.

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**MW: **Common questions that have popped up throughout _The Fanseries_:

1. Who's Agatha?

2. Why is he Alfred and not America?

3. ISN'T SPAIN DATING JAPAN?

Well now you know. Thank you for being very concerned with the fine details of this story (though I've had this explanation set up all the way back in FB). Anyways, this chapter was mostly Larry because Larry's side of the story is the one where things are actually happening. I'll try to do more Sherry next chapter, but it's more of a give and take kind of thing.

I've also had my mind hung up on something lately. For some reason, I just really badly want to hold a contest right now. I'm not sure why, but the need wouldn't leave me. The problem is that I have no idea what the contest would even be about or what I could give as rewards. So, this is where I need you guys. I'm going to hold a poll on my profile to see if anyone wants to even be in a contest (and it'll be specific, like 'contest for writing, art, etc'). And if anyone has any specific ideas about anything, feel free to stick 'em in a review, or maybe get to me through my tumblr. I'm not sure if I'll even end up doing it, but it's an idea.

Once again, thank you very much for reading. Review, favorite, or follow if you feel so inclined. I hope that you enjoyed. See you next time.

**No Notes**

**Next Chapter: **Larry is now forced to play Matthias's game while Team Sherry try to find the real reason for the police station fire.

**Thank you for reading. I hope you all have enjoyed your winter break and the new school semester is not too stressful for you!**


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